


You had me at B minor

by ShingekinoSimpson



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: A teeny bit of Jearmin, Alternate Universe - British, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Bisexuality, Boys Kissing, Fluff, Genderqueer Character, I was scared of getting Americanisms wrong!, Jean northener, M/M, Marco Bott/Jean Kirstein-centric, Music, Non-Binary Armin, Nursery teacher Marco, POV Jean Kirstein
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2019-08-20 07:49:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 53,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16551866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShingekinoSimpson/pseuds/ShingekinoSimpson
Summary: Jean's band needs a new bass player. Cue freckled Jesus.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You are a past sinner, the last winner and everything we've come to  
> It makes you, you

“Okay, well nice to meet you we’ll be in touch!”

I hear Connie closing the front door.

“Errr no we won’t!” shouts Eren as Connie comes back in the living room. “That was hands down the worst version of Come As You Are I have ever heard. Like I actually think he might have ruined the song for me.”

“Yeah. I can hear Cobain spinning in his fucking grave,” I huff. “You know you don’t have to say that to everyone that auditions Con?”

Connie looks at me sheepishly and shrugs. “Yeah Jean I know, I just felt so bad for him,” he says, struggling to keep the smirk off his face.

Eren dramatically flops onto Connie’s couch with a _whoomph_. “Ugh! Are we nearly done? I can’t take much more of these Melvins that can’t play their fucking instruments!”  _There’s a South Park reference I haven’t heard in a while_ I think snorting. “This has been a fucking disaster!” he grumbles into the couch cushion.

I’m with him on that point. It’s been a long and frankly, fucking awkward afternoon. Finding a replacement bass player for our band is not as easy as I had anticipated. I’ll admit, when I first found out Marlowe was going travelling for a year I was…well, relieved. I mean sure we grew up with the guy but recently...he’s turned into a bit of a wanker to be honest. He fell in with this hipster crowd at his uni about a year ago and his taste in music dramatically changed. Much for the worse in my opinion. We could all tell he wasn’t bothered about the band anymore. And that fucking ironic bowl cut of his was just embarrassing man! So yeah, when he announced his impending departure, I was glad. But after the ear-raping I've had this afternoon I'm actually starting to miss the guy. At least he can fucking play!

Connie snickers at Eren, grabbing himself a handful of Maltesers from the packet on the table. “There’s only one more person. Actually it’s the guy Armin knows.”

I turn towards Connie, raising my eyebrows. “Armin knows him?” I don’t have many people in my life who I fully trust, but Armin has always been a solid friend. I can’t count the number of times their advice has got me through shit. I feel a bit more optimistic about the next guy now. If Armin's recommended him, there's little chance of them being a total douchebag.

“Oh yeah him,” Eren cuts in, turning his head to the side, his voice is no longer muffled by the cushion. “He text me asking about it. He works at Armin's coffee shop. He only moved to Trost a few of months ago but apparently used to play in a wedding band so Armin told him about us and gave him my number.”

“Christ, let’s prepare ourselves for Sex is on Fire and Mustang Sally then,” I deadpan. Both Connie and Eren laugh at that, though Connie’s laugh sounds a bit weird through all the chocolate and honeycomb he has stuffed in his face.

“Hey even the best of us venture down that dark road from time to time!” Connie chirps after swallowing his colossal mouthful of treats.

It’s true. When we were just starting out and a bit desperate for gigs, we turned to the dark side that is weddings and parties. Mostly through our relatives, our friend’s relatives and Connie’s Mam’s best friend’s sister (I swear that woman knows fucking everyone). I expected it to be a bit tedious and frustrating - not being able to play our own material - but to be honest, it's taught us a lot and is usually, hella fun.

Connie seems to attract all the tipsy middle age women with his cheeky smile, which usually leads to him being dared to flash a bit of skin or give one of them a kiss on the cheek. My permanent scowl, luckily, saves me from the same fate. After a couple of drinks, Eren is always more than happy accept requests, letting his secret affinity for cheesy music run amok, while Marlowe and I would begrudgingly play on. I’d always let Eren take over the mic when that happened. I’ll happily sing some wedding favourites but even I will draw the line at Katy Perry. Though I have to say, a slightly tipsy Eren belting out Roar is a sight to behold. Plus he’d often end up back at the hotel room of one of the bridesmaid’s (or groomsman on a couple of occasions) when the party ended. We all take the piss out of these types of gigs because it’s not what we’d prefer to be doing, but I know if we got offered one, we’d all take it hands down. Oh right, except we still don’t have a goddamn bass player.

“Ugh, I’m bored,” I complain stretching my arms above my head. “You wanna have a kick-about outside?” I ask turning to Connie.

“Yeah okay.” He swings his knees in the air and jumps up from the sofa with all the grace of a clown on a trampoline. “You comin’ Eren?” he asks, striding over and jabbing him in the ass with his foot.

“Fucking hell Connie, ow! Don’t damage the crowd pleaser!” he yells, wiggling his ass at us for good measure.

“You fucking wish Jaeger,” I say, giving him another dig with my Vans and making him yelp. “Come on Con.” I grab my slouchy grey beanie, roll the sleeves back down on my plaid shirt and follow Connie down the hall. Now that Spring is starting to put Winter back in its place, I no longer feel the need to bundle up, but there’s still a bite to the wind. Looking at Connie, however, you’d be forgiven for thinking Summer has arrived early. No matter the temperature, if the sun is shining then you can bet Connie will throw his shorts on. At least they’re dark camouflage today and not some god-awful Hawaiian pattern.

We would rarely choose to have a kick-about if we were at our own place or Eren’s place, but there’s something about Connie’s parent’s house that makes me feel really nostalgic. I can’t count the number of times we’ve done just this – kick a ball that’s seen better days around the drive, laughing when one of us inevitably does something very unathletic. Though thankfully those embarrassing instances have lessened the older we’ve gotten.

“Connie c’mon pass the ball you dick.” I try to sound pissed but my grin is giving me away. The glee on Connie’s face is hysterical.

“No!...Dude I might…actually beat…my record!” he breathes wheezily between thumps of the ball on his foot.

“I’d hardly call 24 keepy-ups a record.”

“23…24…haha! 25 26…27!” he practically squeals, the ball finally hitting the floor. “YES! In your face Jean!”

He’s swinging his leg back, I suddenly realise, with the intent of blasting the ball right at me. I duck out of the way just in time, feeling the breeze of the ball flying past my head. I look up, about to make a smart remark, when I see the colour drain from Connie’s face, his ecstatic expression changing into one of horror.

“Oh my god I am so fucking sorry,” he says gravely, bringing his hands up to his mouth.

Confused, I turn around and am confronted with, frankly, a pretty amusing sight. A guy in a blue denim shirt and black skinny jeans clutching the right side of his face. The left side is wearing an awkward smile and a smattering of freckles. Locks of thick, dark hair hang slightly above his eyebrows. He has a guitar strapped to his back.

“S’alright,” he says meekly and forces a light chuckle. I try really hard to supress my smile.

“Aw shit, you okay? Sorry, that was meant for me,” I say walking towards him to assess the damage done by Connie.

He lets his hand drop from his face and smiles with a bit more enthusiasm, revealing bright white teeth. “Yeah I’m okay. Luckily your ball seems in dire need of an air pump so no damage done.”

“It’s Marco right? Armin’s friend?” asks Connie taking a step forward and stretching out his hand. “Again, I’m so sorry man I didn’t see you there! I’m Connie.”

“It’s fine honestly!” he says breezily and I actually believe him. I mean, I know it was an accident but if a couple of randoms had smacked me in the face with a ball I think I’d be pretty pissed about it. As it was, he genuinely didn’t seem to mind. “Yeah, Marco, Armin’s friend. Nice to meet you Connie,” he replies shaking Connie’s hand. He turns towards me and smiles brightly. It takes me a second to realise he’s offering me his hand next.

“Oh,” I say slightly flustered and finally remember to give him my hand. “Hey. I’m Jean.”

“Good to meet you Jean,” he replies warmly. Usually when people are so nice right off the bat like this I’m immediately distrustful of them. You never know where you stand with ‘nice’ people. Like, people with big cheesy grins and a slightly robotic way of speaking. I just assume they’re closet sociopaths and hiding something really fucked up like a giant collection of ivory dildos or a sexual fetish for oranges or some shit. But Marco didn’t put me on edge like other ‘nice’ people. His genuineness seemed to pour out of him like warm water into a soothing bath – comforting. He said it was good to meet me and I believe him. I quickly decide he's a good guy and I can see myself getting along with him.

“Well come on in,” says Connie,  gesturing for Marco to follow him through the front door. “We’ve got our kit set up in the front room where there’s more space. You can use that amp there,” he points into the room before continuing down the hall. “EREN! Marco’s here!”

Marco and I go through and I have to wonder what he thinks about the décor in here. No-one really uses the front room from what I gather, so it never gets the same attention as everywhere else in the house. One wall is covered in a stuffy looking navy and pink, floral wallpaper - that I’m sure would have been the height of elegance in the 90s. This is the backdrop for a huge, overbearing, white marble fireplace, absolutely stuffed with family photos - younger versions of Eren and I appear on a couple of them with Connie. The opposite wall is a sea of shelves and books, which I've always found weird considering I’ve never seen anyone in Connie’s family so much as glance at a book in all the years I’ve been coming here. A half-hung hammock lies slumped in the corner next to an old office chair with one arm. There’s also a mahogany coffee table (I think they got that when Connie’s Granma passed away) pushed against the wall and a small, canary yellow IKEA sofa. All very random, but if Marco thinks so, he doesn’t let it show on his face.

I watch as he slides the strap off his broad shoulders and unzips the guitar case. He pulls out a deep-red, 5 string Fender Bass. Nice. Really nice. A bit scratched up in places but a good-looking guitar. I reach for the amp lead and pass it to him. “Nice Fender. You had it long?"

“Thanks,” he says, taking the lead from me. “Yeah, it was actually my Dad’s so I’ve had it a long time.”

He smiles but there's definitely something a little off in his expression so I change the subject. “Eren said you used to play in a band. You guys get many gigs?”

His expression brightens a little at that. “Yeah quite a few! There’s a lot of wedding venues in and around Jinae despite its size so we did okay.” Jinae. I remember going on holiday there when I was younger. I vaguely recall there being a beach and I definitely remember a pretty awesome park where I spent a whole day playing games with a bunch of local kids I didn’t even know, my Mam and Dad laughing and joking with the other parents. Made sense for a nice guy like Marco to come from such a friendly place.

“Oh Jinae? I think I went on holiday there once. Nice place. There’s a beach right?”

“Yeah that’s right,” he replies enthusiastically and I swear his eyes sparkle ever so slightly. “It’s a shame Trost isn’t nearer the coast.” His eyes start to dull as he mulls this over, looking a little wistful. He’s clearly fond of the place and I find myself wondering why he moved. My hand twitches as if it wants to reach out and comfort him but I stop myself. _What the fuck are you doing Jean? You just met the guy!_ The sounds of snickering and shuffling feet coming down the hall snap me out of my musings.

“Hey Marco! Good to finally meet you,” Eren says offering a hand slap in stark contrast to Marco’s earlier polite handshake.

“Yeah you too! Thanks for letting me come along. Armin said it would be fine but I didn’t want to just drop in on you without checking,” Marco replies sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Nah man it’s totally fine. You all set up?”

“Uh, yeah! I’m good to go.” He looks a little caught off guard.

“Okay cool just in your own time man.”

Eren and Connie flop down on the couch as I fold my arms. Marco eyes me nervously, looking from my face to them.

“Oh, I’m good standing man. It feels too much like the fucking X-Factor if we all sit in a row staring at you.” Marco gives an airy chuckle and seems to relax a little bit.

“Yes. You do bare an uncanny resemblance to Sharon Osbourne Connie,” Eren says with the most serious fucking face I’ve ever seen and we all crack up. Marco doubles over his guitar slightly as I throw my head back laughing.

“Fuck off!” cries Connie, laughing as he mercilessly attacks Eren. “That literally makes no fucking sense!” Eren can do nothing but giggle while he’s pummelled. I notice Marco smiling at our stupidness and flexing his fingers, seemingly a lot more relaxed and ready to go now.

“Sorry Marc- Connie quit it!” Eren shoves Connie back onto his side of the sofa. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Marco’s face falls serious, though not nervous, as he looks down at his instrument. _Shit_. Suddenly I realise _I’m_ nervous. _What if he’s shit!?_ I think I’ve already decided Marco’s the guy we’ve been waiting for all day. All of us seem at ease around him, or at least I know I am. I mean, he’s only been in the house two seconds and we’ve shared a laugh together. Not just an awkward titter but real, throaty laughter. Plus, he's still here despite the fact we smacked him in the face with a ball earlier. What if he's just as bad as the others? Luckily, I don't wait long to find out.

Marco’s strong fingers begin plucking and I’m instantly hit with a vivid memory of myself. Skinny, 15, rummaging through my step sister’s old CD collection, after she’d buggered off to uni, and finding Toxicity. System of a Down…shit, what was the fucking song called?…Aerials! Christ I haven’t heard this in ages. What a tune. But…I feel my stomach drop a little. It’s a bit basic for a bass riff. Could he not have chosen something a bit more impressive for an au-

 _Oh Shit!_ Suddenly he switches it up into Red Hot Chilli Peppers – Can’t Stop, his fingers moving double time compared to seconds ago. Then he changes again to Master of Puppets, Love Buzz, Schism, each one blending seamlessly into the next. _Fuck_. I notice Eren and Connie exchange a look. Next comes Hysteria by Muse. Fucking flawless. _Bastard_. That song is my Achilles heal. I can never get it perfect, but he does it without missing a note, his black hair bobbing and flopping over his forehead as he gets lost in the music. _Oh my god…the battle music from Final Fantasy VII!_ Out the corner of my eye, I see Connie fucking beaming at me and I duck my head, trying not to grin like an idiot right back at him. I train my eyes back on Marco and notice he’s grinning to himself too (though seemingly oblivious to us) as he finishes off with a snippet of the Pac-Man theme.

I release a breath I don't realise I was holding. He doesn’t suck. In fact he’s fucking incredible. _Thank god!_ He suddenly remembers there's three other people in the room with him and glances up. Awkwardly scratching the back of his neck ( _a nervous tic of his I guess_ ), he gives us a lopsided smile. Jeez he looks so…modest! A completely different person compared to the assured musician we just witnessed. Connie (as per) is the first one to break the silence.

“Dude that was fucking awesome!” he squawks, jumping to his feet.

“Jesus Connie don’t scare the guy off by jizzing your fucking pants!” retorts Eren. I stifle a snort.

“Oh come on Eren. He’s easily the best we’ve heard all day let’s not beat around the fucking bush,” Connie argues sounding a little irritated. “Marco, seriously man that was great.”

Marco’s eyes are wide as he takes in Connie and Eren’s exchange. “Wow, err, thanks,” he offers with a nervous laugh. Then he glances at me but can’t quite catch my eye, perhaps worried I still haven’t said anything because I disagree. I feel bad for making the guy look so unsure of himself. It’s kind of adorable.

“Yeah,” I smile. “Seriously Marco that was great, and a bit of a relief after some of the horrendous shit we’ve heard today.” He smiles softly and I notice his shoulders melt back down.

“Okay so I think we’re all agreed,” Eren says glancing round at Connie and I. Then he turns to Marco. “We try to practise at least once a week with all of us. Sometimes, if a couple of us are free, we’ll squeeze in an extra one. Wednesday nights are usually best but we pretty much play everything by ear depending on people’s work schedules. That sound good to you?”

“Yeah that sounds great!” says Marco beaming at all of us in turn.

“Awesome. Welcome to The 104th,” grins Eren offering Marco another hand slap.

I smile warmly, entertained by how happy and relieved Marco is. Well, until he looks my way and catches me staring. _Way to look like an absolute fucking dork_ I chastise, blushing as I quickly focus on my feet instead.

“Ugh! Thank god it’s finally sorted!” sighs Connie, throwing his head and arms back against the couch. Then just as quickly, he’s full of energy again. “Right, that’s enough music for today let’s go stuff our faces. There’s still plenty of snacks left and my rents won’t be back ‘til late.” He gets to his feet, with Eren following suit.

“Hey Marco,” I venture. “If you’re not doing anything you’re welcome to hang out for a bit.”

“Yeah,” Connie adds. “My mam always leaves enough to feed a small army when she knows we’re gonna be around. Come help us out.”

“Okay sounds good. Is it okay if I just leave my bass in here?” _Jesus, the guy’s so freakin’ polite!_ I think with a smirk.

“Yeah man no sweat,” says Connie following Eren out the door and back down the hall.

 

_____________________________________

 

The rest of the night is spent taking turns on Fortnite and working our way through the mountain of treats and finger food we have left. Marco doesn’t stay all evening, but he sticks around long enough for me to know he wasn’t just being polite when he accepted our invitation, and I’m glad for the opportunity to learn more about him. I find out that his mam decided to move here to be closer to his aunties and uncle, and that he lives with her and his younger sister not too far from here. He’s keen to start looking for his own place but wanted to live with his family at first while they all found their feet. He talks about Jinae a lot but doesn’t mention his dad again. I decide not to press the issue.

“Jean here, your turn.” Connie holds the controller out to me.

“Huh? Nah I’m good man you keep it.” I turn back to Marco who’s devouring a bag of Haribo’s like no-one’s business. “So do you work full-time at the coffee shop with Armin?”

“At Bean’s? No I just work there on Saturdays. I’m actually, err, a nursery school teacher the rest of the week.” His cheeks flush a light pink as looks at me, clearly apprehensive about my reaction.

“A nursery teacher!?” I say shocked. And I genuinely am, but then just as quickly, I’m not shocked at all. Marco has such a calm and nurturing aura. I can totally picture him with a bunch of little kids. That big smile of his nearly splitting his face in half as he helps them finger paint or build sandcastles or whatever the hell little kids do these days. He looks a little taken aback by my reaction and I instantly regret it. “I mean…shit. I…sorry I guess I just didn’t expect someone in a band to also work in a nursery. But that’s cool, as long as you enjoy it or whatever.”

His cheeks flush a little deeper but he’s smiling again. “Yeah I really enjoy it actually. The hours aren’t quite full-time though which is why I also work at Bean’s. Kind of different from the nursery but great for meeting people. I didn’t really know many people except my family when we moved but since working at Bean’s, I’ve made a few new friends like Armin.”

“Shit. Must be weird having to start over like that.”

“It was at first but having those two jobs helped me get used to things quickly. Plus living with my family meant I wasn’t coming home to an empty house every day.”

“Yeah I guess. Not sure I could live with my mam again though,” I say with a short laugh. Marco just smiles at me. “Do you get to see your friends from Jinae much?” I ask.

“No not really. I had some close friends from uni but we’ve all kind of moved on to different places so it’s difficult to meet up. Though one of my teacher training friends got a job in a school just outside of Trost, so I’ve met up with him a couple of times since coming here.”

The next hour passes just like that. Marco and I in easy conversation, Connie and Eren occasionally giving their two cents between battles on Fortnite. I feel uncommonly relaxed around Marco and I’m just a little disappointed when he says he has to head off.

“You’ve got all our numbers now right?” Eren asks as Marco stands to leave.

“Yeah got them.”

“Okay well like I said earlier we’re not sure when we’re practising next but it will probably be on Wednesday or Thursday night. One of us will let you know.”

“Oh and we’ll text you the address of the studio too,” Connie chips in.

“Ha! Studio might be a bit of a stretch for a rental space down the industrial end of town Con. Don’t build Marco’s hopes up,” I smirk.

Marco grins. "Okay sounds good. See you guys later in the week then."

“See you!” Eren and Connie reply simultaneously, turning back to the TV.

I follow Marco back down the hall to the front room without really realising what I’m doing. He looks a little surprised too when he notices. “Here mate let me grab that,” I say reaching down to disconnect the amp and pass his bass up to him.

“Thanks Jean, and tell Connie thanks for feeding me. I ate more than my fair share of sweets. Reckon I owe him a few bags,” he laughs lightly, zipping his guitar case up.

“Nah you probably saved us from ourselves. We’d all have been bouncing off the walls on a sugar rush by now if you hadn’t,” I joke heading to the front door.

Marco swings his guitar back over his shoulders as I open the door for him. “Good to meet you Jean. I’ll see you yeah?” He smiles brightly and I can’t help but mirror it.

“Yeah see you at practise.” I stand to the side to let him out of the door.

“K, bye!”

“Bye!”

I watch him walk down the path and give him a quick wave before closing the door. I can hear Connie laughing as I walk back down the hall. “What a fucking noob!” he cries before breaking into hysterics again.

“Alright fuck faces quit hogging the game and give me a controller,” I say climbing over the back of the sofa and obnoxiously squashing myself between the two of them.

“Piss off it’s not our fault you two were nattering like a couple of old biddies at a bus stop,” snaps Eren holding his controller out to the side when I try to snatch it.

“Well someone’s gotta make the new guy feel welcome,” I retort, reaching over Eren and squashing him into the arm of the sofa, determined to get his controller.

“Make the new guy feel wel-? Who are you and what have you done with Jean Kirschtein?” Connie says glaring at me like I’ve sprouted an extra head.

I ignore him, too busy laughing at Eren’s muffled squawks as I sit on him hard, finally prying the controller from his grip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eeeek! My first ever piece of writing!  
> Had this idea knocking about in my head for a while now so glad to get started. Jean x Marco is very close to my heart so hope I'm doing them justice so far. This is my first ever attempt so please be gentle in the comments! Ha! no for realsies though I really want to get better so any feedback would be welcomed.
> 
>  
> 
> Next time a few more familiar faces turn up! :)  
> 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise, sometimes, will come around  
> Surprise, sometimes, will come around  
> I will surprise you sometime.  
> I'll come around

“Jean! Jean! Get up! Fucking get up quiiiiiick!”

The guy is actually bouncing on my fucking bed. I have no idea what time it is but it’s too fucking early for this shit.

“Jesus fucking Christ Connie WHAT!?!?”

 “There’s a squirrel on the kitchen window sill! An actual fucking squirrel! It’s just sitting there grooming itself! Come see quick, it’s the cutest thing ever!”

“….Get out.”

“What!? C’mon Jean when are you ever gonna see this again?”

“Are you fucking serious Connie!? You wake me up for a goddamn squirrel?? This is like living with a toddler! Get. The fuck. OUT!!” I scream from underneath my duvet.

“Ugh you’re no fun. Fine, I’ll go play with Squirrelly McSquirrelson on my own.”

He finally closes my door and I groan as I bury myself further into my soft cocoon. I huff through my nose and try to settle back to sleep. Nope. It’s no good. The damage is done. “For fucksake,” I mutter, sitting myself up and leaning against the headboard. Dragging my fingers down my face, I try to get my eyes to focus. It looks relatively sunny outside. Blues sky and a few clouds. I lean over and check the time on my phone. 10:20, not as early as I thought but I’m still pissed at Connie for waking me. Then as if on cue, my phone buzzes on my bedside table with a Snapchat notification. Connie. He’s managed to get a selfie with the squirrel in the background. He’s even added little sunglasses and a party hat to it. His face looks fucking hilarious and I’m struggling to stay mad at him now. I don’t think I’d ever seen him look so happy. The caption reads, ‘You don’t know what you’re missing!’ I quickly snap a pic of my hand giving the finger and hit send.

I waste another half an hour sitting in bed, scrolling through Instagram and checking a couple of Facebook notifications. My fuzzy brain slowly focusing on memories of yesterday. I remember Marco and wonder if he’s on Facebook. _Never even bothered to find out his surname_ I think with a scowl. Then, after a little lightbulb moment, I search for Armin. Marco’s bound to be hiding somewhere in their friend list. Only one Marco comes up - the profile picture a smiley, freckled guy wearing sunglasses. Bingo. Marco…Bodt? How the hell do you pronounce that?? Boad? Bod? Bot? Bodtee? I’ll have to ask him the next time I see him.

Clicking on his profile picture, I can see that it is most definitely him - that big smile beaming almost as bright as the sun in the background. I scroll through the rest of the photos but they seem a bit out of date – standing in a court yard in graduation robes, playing beer pong with a bunch of other drunk students, a night out in terrible x-mas jumpers…a group fancy dress picture of the Village People! It takes me a while to work out which one is Marco until I spot some tell-tale freckles on the face of the policeman. He oddly suits the uniform. Nothing more recent. He looks distinctly younger in all the photos; his hair shorter and neater. Certainly not the floppy-haired guy I met yesterday. I guess he doesn’t update too much on here. I’m the same. Facebook quickly lost its appeal after Great Aunt Margaret sent me a friend request.

I switch apps to Instagram and type his name in. I recognise him in the profile picture third from the top and tap it. These pictures are much more recent, though he only appears in a few. They’re mostly pictures of places, food and people I don’t know. One picture catches my eye and I jab it with my thumb for a closer look. It’s a view of the beach, I’m guessing at sunset due to the amazing mix of orange, yellow and pink shades filling my screen. The caption underneath simply reads #home. My chest clenches a little at the memory of him chatting so fondly about Jinae yesterday. He clearly loves the place so why the move? He told me his mam wanted to be closer to their extended family but there had to be more to it than that. I feel a sudden urge to reach out to the guy and scroll back up to the top of his account. I’m about to hit the follow button when I hesitate. _Creeper alert Jean!_ He’s bound to wonder how the fuck I found him on Instagram and it wouldn’t take him long to work out I’d clearly spent an unhealthy amount of time stalking his various social media platforms to get information. _Get a fucking grip Jean you just met the guy don’t scare him off!_

I close down all my apps and jump out of bed, mentally chastising myself for being such an idiot as I search my wardrobe for something to pull on. I don’t know why I bother, all my clothes are still in a big pile on my desk chair waiting to be hung. I automatically go to grab my skinny jeans but then change my mind. I have a few hours before my shift at the bar starts and decide going to the gym is be the best way to keep myself out of trouble and avoid any more socially unacceptable mishaps. Changing quickly into joggers and a white t-shirt, I head out of my room, giving Connie nothing more than a grunt as I pass him eating a gigantic bowl of cereal and staring at a now empty windowsill. I’ll just grab something to eat on the way. I’m still too pissed about the squirrel fiasco to sit and eat with him.

___________________________________

The late morning sun nearly blinds me as I take a right off the main street and walk briskly down a cobbled alleyway. Bean’s is a tiny bit out of my way, but it’s worth it for the best coffee in Trost. Plus I’m fairly certain Armin is working today and I want to thank them for recommending Marco.

Within a minute, I’m pushing the door open, glad to escape the sun’s harsh glare. It takes a few seconds for my eyes to adjust but I can hear the familiar sound of milk getting frothy and the tinkling of a metal spoon hitting porcelain. Glancing around on my way to the counter, I notice it’s a little busier than usual - the relatively clear skies and sunshine obviously tempting people outdoors. I let the glorious scent of roasted beans fill my head and already feel a little more awake and a little less grouchy.

I can’t see Armin anywh-

My breathing seems to stop momentarily when, looking behind the counter, I spot a tall guy with a mop of dark hair. He begins turning around and my brain short-circuits as I try to school my face into a less stunned expression.

“Err, can I help you mate?”

It’s not Marco. He looks a bit like him but no freckles and certainly no goofy grin. This guy’s kinda moody looking. His name badge reads ‘Samuel’.

Suddenly I realise I’m just staring at this guy with my mouth agape like a total fucktard. “Err, no sorry, I mean…is Armin working today?” I feel myself going red. _Calm the fuck down Jean what the hell is wrong with you!?_

“Yeah. They’re just grabbing some stock. Be out in a minute. Can I get you anything?”

Technically he’s trying to be helpful but his expression says something entirely different. He might as well roll his eyes at me. I decide I’ll wait for Armin. This guy’d probably spit in my coffee given half the chance.

“Nah I’m err, still deciding.” He shrugs and turns back to the machine, emptying out the old coffee grounds.

I hover near the other end of the counter, letting a couple go in front of me while I will my face to stop burning. I can’t believe I got so tongue tied when I thought that guy was Marco. I mean, I know he’s at nursery today so I wasn’t expecting to see him but still. _I know your excited about your new friend Jean but have a bit of dignity!_ Thankfully at that moment, Armin comes through the door carrying piles of sandwiches, distracting me from my cringey behaviour.

“Oh! Hey Jean!” Armin smiles broadly at me and my heart flutters just a little.

I’m fairly sure it was Armin who made me realise I wasn’t exactly 100% straight. When we were younger, they were so soft spoken and introverted. Really smart and sweet but always tried not to stand out from the crowd, usually by burying themselves under baggy shirts and jackets. Then, when we were about 16, Armin came out to us as non-binary and it was like they fucking flourished. Gone were the ill-fitting clothes and meek expression. They wore whatever the hell they wanted (nothing particularly out-there but just inherently ‘Armin’) and honestly they just shone. It was as though Armin could finally be their true self around us and I swear their smile actually fucking sparkled. That smile floored me back then but I never acted on my feelings because above all else, Armin was my friend, one of my best friends, and I didn’t want to jeopardise that for anything.

When my Dad left my Mam, Armin was there to help me pick up the pieces and I dealt with it. Even when my Dad settled down with someone else only 6 months later I got through it, because Armin got me through it. They helped me understand how people can fall out of love and it wasn’t my fault. They even convinced me to be grateful for gaining a step-sister. It wasn’t easy, in fact it was really fucking hard most of the time but Armin made it easier to cope with. They helped assure me that I hadn’t done anything wrong and pulled me out of my pit of self-loathing more times than I could count.

However, when my Dad abandoned all of us two years later, I was angry. Unbelievably angry. He hadn’t just left my mam this time. And he hadn’t just left his new family. This time, he’d left me. My friends wanted to comfort me and be there, but I made it really hard and ultimately, they shrank away from me - unsure of what to say and scared of making it worse. I don’t blame them. But not Armin. Armin just got me. They’ve always been emotionally intelligent, with an uncanny ability to tune into other people’s feelings. Armin instinctively understood how I was feeling (better than I understood it myself) and could always calm me down by getting me to talk. I can’t thank them enough for what they did back then.

I think at some point I confused Armin’s support and sympathy for genuine affection and, yeah…I developed a bit of a crush. Looking back, I know I was just hurting. My Dad left a pretty big void and I think I just latched onto the first person that showed me they cared. Eventually, I realised my mistake and those feelings fizzled out. Though I’ll admit that smile, the one that’s beaming at me now, is still capable of making my heart twinge.

I smile back softly. Armin looks really good today. Their hair braided on each side in a twist and pulled into a ponytail. The odd bit of fringe, too short to stay back, flopping in front of their face. _Cute_.

“Hey Armin, new hairstyle looks good!”

“Oh yeah thanks. Mikasa experimented on me this morning. We’ve been rewatching Yuri on Ice and we’re both obsessed with Yurio’s hair!” they add with a laugh.

“Oh god don’t tell Eren. He was singing the theme song for weeks after the last time he watched it.”

“Ha! Yeah I remember. Usual black coffee?”

“Yeah please, and one of those toasties to go,” I say pointing at the sandwiches they just plopped down onto the counter.

“Sure,” Armin says unwrapping my toastie and sliding it onto the grill. “You on your way to the gym?”

“Yeah trying to stay on it and build my strength a bit more. Not long to go now.”

“Your training starts in a few weeks right?” they ask turning around from the coffee machine.

“Yeah next month. Suppose I should make the most of these relaxed mornings while I still can.”

“You’ll still pop in when you can though right?” they ask with a cheeky grin. There’s that chest twinge again.

“Of course, you know I can’t survive without Bean’s coffee. Thanks Armin,” I say taking the cup. I take a tentative sip and am glad not to scald my mouth off. Armin knows how impatient I am and never makes it too hot for me. “Aaaaaahh that’s better.”

Armin turns at the sound of the grill beeping. “Oh I’ll just grab your toastie,” they say cheerfully. I can smell the melted cheesy goodness wafting over from the machine.

“By the way, I wanted to say thanks for introducing us to Marco. He’s really talented, I think he’ll be a good fit.”

“Yeah Eren told me all about his audition last night. Sounds like it went really well. I’m so glad.” Armin pops my toastie in a take away bag and pushes it towards me as I hand them a ten.

“Honestly, if you’d heard some of the fucking horrendous auditions we had before him! It was brutal!”

“Excuse me,” says a disgruntled sounding voice. A short blonde guy scoots past me to pay at the next till where Samuel is. I give him a quick sideways glance and freeze. _Shit! Shit shit fucking shitballs!_ It’s the first guy who auditioned. And he blatantly just heard me call him ‘fucking horrendous’. I stare at Armin, wide-eyed and silently plead with them to change the subject.

“So…,” they shoot a quick look at the short guy and then back to me. “How’s Connie getting on? I haven’t seen him in a while.”

_Thank you sweet Mary mother of Jesus Armin I could kiss you!_

“He’s good!” I squeak, my voice cracking in the middle. “He’s still working at the bar. I’m working with him tonight actually.”

The short guy takes his coffee and leaves the counter. I hold my breath, my eyes darting from side to side but not actually daring to look properly. Finally I hear the door close and I huff out a long breath. Armin cracks up immediately.

“Oh my god! Was that someone who auditioned!?” Tears are already in the corners of their eyes.

“Yes.” Armin’s giggles get distinctly worse. I flop down to the counter and hold my head in my hands. “Ugh that was awful. I feel so bad!”

“Aww Jean, you didn’t know he was there,” Armin says kindly, wiping their eyes. “On the plus side, the poor guy will probably never come back here again so less chance of another awkward encounter.”

“Yeah true. I guess I should get going before I drive any more of your customers away,” I grimace straightening myself up. Armin snickers a just a little, finally regaining control over their giggling.

“True. Okay well good to see you Jean. I’m glad it all worked out with Marco. I might be ‘round Eren’s on Saturday night if you fancy it? I think Mikasa’s coming too.”

“Yeah okay I’ll probably see you there then. Later Armin,” I wave heading to the door.

“Bye Jean, stay out of trouble!”

 _Cheeky fucker_ I think. It’s not like a try to get myself into these situations!

___________________________________

Checking my phone as I leave the gym, I notice a few WhatsApp notifications waiting for me. Eren has set up a new group for band practise with Marco included.

**_Jaegermeister:_ **

**S’up MFs! I don’t have to work extra on Wed so we can still practise. How’s 7 work for everyone?**

_**ConMan:** _

**I don’t know, got big plans with my new** **friend ;)**

And there it is again. The goddamn squirrel selfie.

_**Jaegermeister:** _

**What the shit!!? Did you adopt a fucking squirrel???**

_**ConMan:** _

**I think he adopted me. It’s true bromance <3 **

I quickly tap out a reply.

_**HeresJeany:** _

**Tell me that fucking rat is not still in our flat**

_**ConMan:** _

**First of all. RUDE. Second of all, he’ll be back, don’t you worry. We have a connection now.**

_**Jaegermeister** _

**I’m sure he will. But on the small off-chance he doesn’t return ARE YOU FUCKING FREE ON WED???**

_**ConMan:** _

**Yes**

_**HeresJeany:** _

**Yeah I’m free**

_**ItsaMeeMarco:** _

**Hey. I’m still free Wednesday night :) can you let me know the address?**

I chuckle a little at his name and smile. A couple walking towards me must’ve heard and look at each other, trying and failing to stifle their snickering. _Shit. Stop acting like a fucking dork!_ I resume my usual scowl and am about to tap out another reply but Eren beats me to it.

_**Jaegermeister:** _

**I’ve sent you a message with the address Marco. If you get lost just let one of us know**

_**ItsaMeeMarco:** _

**Got it thanks Eren. I think I know where it is. Is it next to an old factory?**

This time I get in there first.

_**HeresJeany:** _

**Sort of. Do you know where the church is near the school?**

_**ItsaMeeMarco:** _

**Yes! My nursery is attached to that school.**

Huh. Who knew he’d been so close to us this whole time. That’s a pretty deprived part of Trost though. I wonder what the kids are like. I’m about to chuckle again at the thought of a bunch of little shits hanging off Marco’s arms and legs and pulling his hair but I quickly school my face. _Do not laugh out loud like a total flop noodle again_. I focus on replying instead.

_**HeresJeany:** _

**Cool I’ll meet you there if you like and show you where the space is. 6.45?**

_**ItsaMeeMarco:** _

**Please :) thanks Jean**

_**ConMan:** _

**Eren do you need a lift? I need to move my drums back so taking the van**

_**Jaegermeister:** _

**Yeah thanks man**

A separate notification pops up. It’s Connie.

_**ConMan:** _

**You on your way home?**

_**HeresJeany:** _

**…Y?**

ConMan:

**If you pick me up a pizza I’ll love you forever**

HeresJeany:

**Like you wouldn’t anyway. Seriously though, take away pizza in the middle of the afternoon?**

ConMan:

**Is that a yes? :)**

HeresJeany:

**Yeah I’m food shopping so I’ll grab one**

ConMan:

**I love you Jean**

HeresJeany:

**Fuck off**

___________________________________

Connie and I leave for work a few hours later. It’s not exactly far but we take my car. The cold Spring nights are more than enough to put me off walking all the way home at midnight. I park my beat-up, old Mini around the back next to the delivery drop-off. I always feel smug when I park there, knowing how difficult it is to find a space in this part of Trost. We hop out and head for the back door.

Springer’s is by no means the busiest bar in Trost, but it does well. Mainly due to the fact that everyone loves Connie’s parents. They always make a fuss of the regulars and are quick to start conversing with any new faces. As a result, the bar always has a friendly, relaxed atmosphere, attracting punters of all ages and backgrounds. I especially love the décor. It’s a complete hodgepodge of different aesthetics, yet somehow, they all work together. Not one light fixture is the same, ditto for the chairs. One wall looks like it hasn’t been touched since the 70s, with this funky floral wallpaper in yellow, brown and turquoise. Here and there, above a brown leather booth, are various picture frames containing photos of Trost nights out from days gone by. Another wall is papered to look like wood cladding and covered in a random assortment of animal head mounts that Connie’s dad picked up in an antiques market. Best of all though is the 50s style jukebox. There isn’t a single bad record inside that thing.

It’s safe to say I love the place and I’m eternally grateful to Connie’s parents for letting me work here part-time while I sorted myself out. When the office I was working for made me redundant a few months back, Connie’s dad couldn’t offer me a job quick enough. Gigs were pretty thin on the ground at the time and, with all my former colleagues in the job market, I found it hard to get an interview, let alone work. I knew they didn’t need any extra staff but Connie’s parents insisted they could do with a hand. I can never thank them enough. Not only did they save me from the terrible fate of having to move back in with my mam (let’s not even go there), they gave me what is hands down, the best job I’ve ever had. I never dread or resent coming to work, which is a first for me. It’s an easy, stress free way to earn money and most of the time, I’m working with my best mate. Tuesdays in particular are a lot of fun. It’s the quietest night of the week, meaning Connie’s parents can have a day off and we're left to our own devices. This nearly always results in weird competitions like who can land the most cashews in a shot glass, who can stock the fridge without using their hands, who can throw a hat and get it to land on a customer’s head (we only involve the regulars in that one, don’t worry). This night is no exception until-

_KKKRSSSSSHHHH!!!_

“Waheyyyyy!” yells a group of regulars in the corner, giving a collective thumbs up.

“Fucking hell Connie I nearly shit myself!” The idiot's just dropped a crate of glasses on the floor next to me, right as I was crouching down to grab cloth. I swear the volume of it has made me deaf! “How the hell did you manage that?”

“Shit. Sorry. Don’t move I’ll go grab the brush,” he flaps before scurrying back through the door.

I cock my eyebrow at him and scowl. Usually he’d just give everyone a shit-eating grin and take a bow or something, but he had frowned as he dove back into the stockroom – a look I rarely see on Connie. Standing up, I glance towards the front door and then everything makes perfect sense.

“Sasha?”

Sasha Braus walks slowly towards the bar with Mikasa and Historia (another old school friend) close behind. She’s wearing a red plaid dress with a black leather jacket and heels. She looks great, though a bit perplexed – presumably because of Connie’s little performance just now.

Sasha joined our first school when we were about seven. I’ll never forget when she walked into class clutching a baked potato (I mean who would forget that??), everyone’s eyes wide as they took in the strange sight before them. She just smiled and told us, very matter-of-factly, that her dad said they didn’t have time to finish lunch so she decided to bring it with her. When someone asked why she didn’t just leave it, she looked at them liked they were mental. Connie burst out laughing. I think that was the moment he fell for her. I also think that was the moment I decided she was a gigantic weirdo, but I quickly grew to like her. She was great at hitting targets and could run really fast, so you’d always want her on your team for games. I remember Connie refused to talk to me for a whole day once (a lifetime back then) because I’d hugged her when she landed the winning blow in a particularly tense dodgeball match. He only broke his silence after I repeatedly told him that I only did it because I was excited we won and would’ve hugged anyone in that situation – even Eren. He soon came round after that.

It was totally obvious that Sasha liked Connie too. She would always bombard me with questions about him and then talk to him at lunchtime about stuff she knew would interest him. As we got older though, things between them became painfully awkward. They couldn't even manage uttering two words to each other without stuttering and garbling like a couple of idiots. We begged Connie to ask her out to put them (and us!) out of their misery but he could never build up the courage. Sasha eventually decided he was never going to ask and when someone else asked her out, she said yes. They only went out for a couple of months and she never stopped longingly gazing at Connie in class. By the time they broke up though, Connie had already started going out with someone else. He immediately (and rather unceremoniously) dumped her when he realised Sasha might be interested, but once again Sasha had started seeing someone else. This terrible timing of theirs went on for a while and then Sasha moved away from Trost for university. Connie didn’t say so at the time, but I knew he was devastated when she left – the memory of him vomiting a whole bottle of vodka up onto my favourite converse still causes me to wake in a cold sweat sometimes. After uni, Sasha spent some time travelling around Europe and, as far as I knew, started working as an Au Pair in Italy. I had no idea she was back in Trost, and if Connie knew, he hadn’t said anything.

“Hey Jean! Long time no see,” Sasha smiles. Mikasa and Historia give me a little smile and a wave before grabbing one of the booths.

“Yeah…I thought you were in Italy.” I stammer.

“Never mind that! Come give me a cuddle! I haven’t seen you in two years!”

I relax and chuckle. Same old Sasha and no hint of an Italian accent. I move around the bar and get swept up into a big bear hug. “Ow! Careful! I’m a bit sore from the gym,” I wince.

“I was thinking. Where the hell’s all this came from?” she says jabbing at my biceps and shoulders.

“C’mon they’re not that big,” I grin.

“You were skinnier than me the last time I saw you!” she says tickling my sides.

“AH! I said be careful!”

Her eyes drift behind the bar. “Was that Connie I saw just now?” She’s trying to look only mildly interested but her eyes are wide and hopeful.

“Yeah, I’ll go see what’s keeping him. You guys want some drinks?”

“Duh! Three gin and tonics please.”

“Coming up.” I head back behind the bar and enter the stock room. “How long does it take to find a fucking broom Con?” He practically jumps a mile at the sound of the door opening, dropping the broom onto the floor with a clatter. I look from the floor to him. “…Are you okay?”

“Yep! Fine!” he squeaks, scrabbling to pick the broom back up. “I just err…got distracted.” His cheeks are bright pink.

“Did you know Sasha was back in Trost?”

“No! I mean, maybe? Eren said she might be coming back but I didn’t know she had.”

“Okay well get out there, go say hello!”

“Yeah…okay just…just give me a minute,” he says meekly, fiddling with the end of the broom.

“Con look at me.” His amber eyes snap up to meet mine, wide and concerned. “It’s fine. We’re not teenagers anymore okay. I’m sure you can manage more than a few stumbling syllables. I think she’s looking forward to seeing you.”

He smiles gently, relaxing his shoulders. “Okay. Thanks, Jean. Do I…look okay?” he asks pulling down his t-shirt.

I roll my eyes. “Breath-takingly fucking beautiful. Now come on. I’ll clean up that glass while you say hello.”

He hands me the broom and struts back out to the bar, but his walk becomes more hunched and nervous the closer he gets to the booth where the girls are. I watch Sasha’s face light up as she clocks him, jumping out of her seat and pulling him into the same bear hug she offered me, though the one she gives Connie lingers considerably longer. As I start sweeping up shards of broken glass, I overhear Sasha explain that the family she worked for are moving to Dubai but she’s keen to stay in Europe. She decided to come home for a bit before looking for a new job. Connie is hanging on her every fucking word, smiling and laughing, but she laps it up. And I’m fairly sure she lightly brushes his arm a couple of times.

Once I’ve finished cleaning up Connie’s little mishap, I set about making three gin and tonics, going all out with a cucumber garnish.

“No straws Jean!”

I look up a little startled. It was Historia who spoke. She looks deadly serious. “Huh?”

“Don’t put straws in our drinks.” Mikasa gives her the side-eye. “What!? They’re bad for the environment. Do you have any idea how much plastic is in the sea?”

“No worries Polly Preservation,” I grin. “I’ll make sure your drinks are eco-friendly.” She eyes me suspiciously, trying to decide whether or not I’m taking the piss. Eventually returning my cheeky smirk, she turns back to the others and they lapse back into conversation – something about turtles in a plastic documentary Historia’s seen recently – and Connie comes striding back towards the bar, grinning from ear to ear and glancing back over his should at Sasha.

“Careful.”

He looks at me confused. “What?”

“Your face is gonna split in half.”

“Fuck off,” he mutters grinning even wider and placing the drinks on a tray.

“Wait,” I say grabbing one of the drinks back. “Take these to Kasa and Sash. I’ll take Historia’s over,” I add with a wicked grin, which Connie mirrors before heading back to the girls.

I walk over casually, hiding the drink behind my back. “Sorry Historia here you go.” She turns to me smiling, but her expression darkens in a millisecond as I place the glass containing all our straws in front of her. Everyone bursts out laughing at her reaction.

“Oh fuck off Kirschtein!” she yells, pinching a couple of straws and flinging them at me.

“No Historia think of the turtles!” giggles Sasha.

“Hey! We reserve those for customers who think global a warming is a myth!” cries Connie. “Don’t waste them!”

“Well in that case,” Historia grins and I watch as her and Mikasa began grabbing straws and firing them at Sasha and Connie. It’s a full-blown straw war by the time I walk back over with Historia’s actual drink, laughing at how ridiculous they all look.

“Here Historia, first round is on me.”

“I should think so!” she yells indignantly, but her smirk tells me I’m off the hook.

We all laugh and joke for the rest of the evening, with Connie and I (though mostly me) taking it in turns to jump back behind the bar when we’re needed. Connie clearly finding it hard to tear himself away from Sasha for too long. She’s more than happy to listen to him and keeps asking questions, wanting to know everything he’s up to now. She takes quite a few selfies with all of us but mostly with just Connie.

“Do you guys still play in the band?” she asks us in between sips of her fourth gin and tonic.

“Yeah we still play here at the end of each month and we just got a new bass player. His audition was fucking awesome!” Connie replies excitedly.

“Audition!? That sounds a bit profesh’” Sasha jokes.

“Excuse me but we are extremely professional!” I say pretending to be outraged. “But yeah, he’s called Marco and he’s really good.”

“Oooh Marcooooo!” she says in an outrageously over the top accent. “Is he Italian?”

“Err, no. I don’t think so. He’s from Jinae originally but moved here a few months ago. Apparently he has some family in Trost. He’s living with his mam and sister at the minute but I think he wants to get his own place somewhere. Oh and you’ll never guess what his regular job is! He’s a nursery teacher. How random is that? Though you’d probably think that suits him if you met- ” I stop. The girls all stare at me with these weird amused faces. “What!?”

“Jesus Jean stalker alert! Is there anything you don’t know about the guy?” Sasha barks, turning to the others and laughing.

I feel my face burning and plead with it to calm down. “I don’t stalk the guy! Jesus! I just spoke to him is all, you know, like a normal person would!”

“Oh you should’ve heard him nattering away to the guy the other day. I could barely get a word in edgeways!” Connie chimes in rolling his eyes.

“Nawww what’s wrong Con, you jealous?” I ask pinching his cheek.

“Get off!” he complains swatting my hand away.

“Awww are you sure you’re not jealous?” teases Sasha, also grabbing Connie’s cheek.

“Hey!” he cries as Historia and Mikasa join in too, the three of them all trying to pin Connie down and grab a bit of his face. I slip out of the booth while they’re distracted, glad the conversation has shifted away from my stalker tendencies.

It’s just after 11 when the girls decided to make tracks. Their speech considerably less coherent - except for Mikasa, even though I could swear she’s drank more than anyone. They stumble towards the door laughing and making us both promise we’ll go to Eren’s get together on Saturday. We’re treated to silly faces and enthusiastic waving as they stagger past the window. By this time of night, the only person left (as per usual) is Pixis, one of our regulars, propping up the bar in his usual spot.

“Can I get you anything before closing P-Dog?” Connie asks wiping down the bar.

“No thanks son, but I’ve got something for you,” he replies in his gravelly voice.

“Yeah what’s that then?” Connie asks with a chuckle, already anticipating a silly response.

“Hurry up and ask that girl out.” He’s slurring, but his eyes look deadly serious as they fix on Connie.

“Wh- What!?”

“That girl. Your eyes barely left her all night son. Take it from me, if you - _brrrr_ – if you don’t somebody else sure as hell will. You need to lock that down quick son! In f-fact,” he fumbles about in his jacket pocket and tugs out a 20. “Here! Put this towards and engagement ring!”

Connie can do nothing but gape at him like a guppy fish. Pixis is just beaming at him, unfazed by Connie’s reaction, his crinkly eyes practically glittering. “I- I can’t take that Pixis put it away you silly old sod!” splutters Connie, just about finding his voice again.

“Take it!” Pixis yells back at him determined.

I stride towards them deciding to finally come to Connie’s rescue. “He’d be happy to take it Pixis that’s very generous of you,” I say taking the note from him. I put it behind my back and swap hands. “And here’s your change,” I smile handing the money back to him.

“Hmm? Ah…yes. Good lad. Thank you.” Pixis plucks the note from my hand and puts it back in his jacket. He hops off his stool, wobbling a little but quickly regaining his composure. “G’night boys. See you again,” he says striding out of the door into the fresh night time air.

As soon as the door clicks shut, I burst out laughing at Connie, who’s still staring after him slack-jawed. He whirls round at the sound of my cackling. “Fuck off!” he shouts launching his dirty cloth at me.

“Well fucking listen to the man! We’ve been telling you to ask her out for years!” I laugh chucking the cloth back. “Pixis, Pixis, Pixis. The guy’s like fucking Yoda.”

“Yeah and probably just as old,” adds Connie with a smirk.

“Yeah probably. C’mon we still need to clean all those straws up,” I say heading back to the booth.

I mentally thank Pixis for saying what we’re all thinking. I just hope Connie actually listens this time!

___________________________________

I felt fine all evening, but tiredness hits me like a fucking wall as soon as I step into our apartment. I bid Connie a quick good night and head straight to bed, landing face first on the mattress with a _phwumph_! I wriggle out of my jeans, taking care to get my phone out of my pocket first, and pull the duvet over my head.

I’m setting the alarm when my phone buzzes in my hand, scaring the life out of me. Instagram notification. Sasha has tagged me in a group selfie of us all jabbing Historia with straws while she pretends to look horrified. I scroll through my feed and spot a couple of other pictures she’s posted. One of her and Connie already has 8 hearts.

I notice a little red dot at the bottom of my screen and tap it. There at the top of my ‘People you might know’ list is Marco. I feel confused at first but then realised it must be because I added him on WhatsApp earlier. My finger hesitates over the follow button when I remember my little stalkathon this morning, but I decide to add him anyway. It’s not my fault Instagram has suggested him! I have another look through his pictures and straight away notice a new one. A selfie with his bass guitar. He’s holding it in front of his face so that only his eyes are visible but the little crinkles in the corners tell me he’s smiling. The caption underneath reads _Ready motherpluckers?_ I snort and double tap it before putting my phone down and snuggling further under the duvet. I smile to myself thinking about practise tomorrow. I’m really looking forward to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the lack of baby Marco in this chapter. Here's a [cute doodle](https://shingekinosimpson.tumblr.com/post/180493268331/baby-marco) to make up for it.  
> There'll be lots of Marco and fluff in the next chapter! I promise the Eren stuff I mentioned last time will be in the next chapter too. This one was getting a bit long so I thought I'd save it for next time.  
> Thanks so much for the kudos so far. Any feedback is welcomed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning guys. I mention the death of Eren's mother in this one
> 
>  
> 
> Shake your hair, have some fun  
> Forget our mothers and past lovers, forget everyone  
> Oh, I'm so lucky, you are my best friend  
> Oh, there's no one, there's no one that knows me like you do

I sleep in far too long on Wednesday. It’s just after half 11 when I eventually roll over to check my phone. I had intended to go for a run but I feel so shitty from oversleeping it’s now the furthest thing from my mind. Coffee and food are all I can think of as I struggle out of my blanket. The floor sends a shockwave of cold through the soles of my feet. Definitely a dressing gown kind of day. I grab my extra-large, extra snuggly green tartan robe off the back of my door and wrap it tightly round myself.

I’m surprised to find Connie has already left when I enter our living room/kitchen, until I remember he’s helping his parents. They’re expecting a large delivery at _Springer’s_ today and they asked him to lend a hand. Yawning like a bear emerging from hibernation, I flick the kettle on and drag my favourite cup towards me; Jake the Dog and his bacon pancakes having all but rubbed off from over usage. I chuck some instant coffee inside the mug, not bothering to measure it out, and hunt for something decent to eat. The giant box of Coco Pops I picked up shopping yesterday comes out of the cupboard first, followed by some sliced bread that needs using. As well as a dressing gown kind of day, it is most definitely a two breakfasts kind of day. I pop the bread in the toaster and get the biggest bowl we have for my cereal. The toast pinging just as the kettle begins to bubble and jiggle.

I’ve just pulled up a stool at the breakfast bar when my phone beeps, dancing across the bench with the vibration. A WhatsApp notification from… _Marco?_ I blink hard a couple of times and open it. _Has he text me instead of the group by mistake?_

_**ItsaMeeMarco:** _

**Hey! Just wondered if you and Connie are free before practise for a drink or food or whatever? I’m working until 5 and it’s a bit pointless going home just to come all the way back again. No worries if not. I’m sure I can entertain myself! :D**

Then another pops straight up.

**I know Eren’s working btw in case you thought I was missing him out ;)**

As if he’s worried about not including Eren. _Nerd_. I smile as I tap out my reply in between sips of coffee.

_**HeresJeany:** _

**Hey man. Con’s working today but I’ll be around. Should I meet you outside work when you finish?**

_**ItsaMeeMarco:** _

**Yeah sounds good! It’s Tiny Toes (don’t laugh) round the corner from the old church. Did you say you knew where that was?**

_**HeresJeany:** _

**Yep. I’ll see you just after 5?**

_**ItsaMeeMarco:** _

**Okay see you later :)**

Staring at his little smiley face, I find myself grinning back at it. I shovel a few more spoonfuls of Coco Pops into my mouth and glance out the window. Looks like the clouds are starting to move on, revealing light blue sky and streaks of blaring sunshine. Maybe I can face going for a run. Feeling considerably more energized, I hop off the stool and go to get changed.

___________________________________

A couple of hours later, I emerge from my extra-long, extra hot shower, looking like a lobster but feeling fucking amazing. Knowing Connie won’t be home anytime soon, I’m free to strut about the apartment wearing nothing but the few drops of water that are still clinging to my fringe, the colder air soothing my red-hot skin. Christ it’s refreshing! I randomly think of what Historia would say, imagining her cute angry face berating me about how bad long, hot showers are for the environment. I chuckle a little at the thought and I pour myself a glass of water. My body is pretty much dry but I can still feel the odd drip running from my hair and down my neck. I head back to my room to grab a towel and dry it. My fringe is getting kinda long and my undercut’s starting to feel pretty shaggy. Guess I’m overdue for a haircut.

I spend a little longer than necessary deciding what to wear. It’s that time of year when you could be freezing your tits off one minute and then sweating the next, so I have to choose carefully. Or at least that’s what I tell myself. The barely noticeable (yet most definitely present) squirming sensation in my gut suggests otherwise. _Am I nervous?_ The realisation that it is indeed nerves causing me to fuss only serves to make the feeling ten times worse. _Why am I fucking nervous?_ Then it hits me. I’d genuinely been looking forward to hanging out with Marco and had thought nothing of saying yes when he asked to meet up. But now, I’m worried we won’t hit it off like we did on Monday and it’ll be awkward as fuck. Yes we got along no problem then, but Eren and Connie were there too. Anxiety prickles over me at the thought of not having them as a buffer. The idea of cancelling crosses my mind but I quickly dismiss it. Even I can appreciate that would be a dick move.

_You know he’ll be on his own for two hours because he said it’s not worth going home AND he’s just fucking moved here. He barely knows anyone. Stop being such a massive tool you selfish prick!_

My little reprimand calms me down and the knot in my gut loosens considerably. Marco has invited me and I need to make the effort instead of getting hung up on my own social anxieties.

I eventually settle on black skinny jeans and a long sleeve, grey top with a button detail. I dig around in my wardrobe for a denim jacket that I haven’t worn in a while, deciding it’ll be a bit warmer than my hoodie. I can always take it off if it gets too warm. Shoving my feet into my Vans, I’m about to leave when I clock myself in the mirror next to the front door. _Shit_. A section of my fringe is sticking right up at a bizarre angle, probably from running my fingers through it earlier when I was stressing. I do my best to flatten it, but it pings back up like a fucking Jack-in-the-box. _Guess we’re going with the beanie then_ I think, grabbing my plain black one off the side. I swing my guitar case over my back and head out the door.

___________________________________

Our practise space and Marco’s nursery are both on the other side of Trost, means I have to drive through the city centre. Not ideal when rush hour is just starting. I spend the best part of twenty minutes in a queue at the lights, but once I turn off for West Trost, the traffic thankfully flows more easily. The mix of tall, glass-fronted buildings and people hurrying about in business suits dissipates into small boutiques and Georgian town houses, as I continue down the main road. The rental prices are way higher in this area; the older architecture and close-proximity to Trost centre attracting both affluent families and young professionals on crazy salaries. However, turning left at the next crossroads, you’d think you were a million miles away from any sort of wealth and prosperity. The houses here are squat and packed closely together. Some are lucky enough to have gardens, but most have concrete drives with the odd weed protruding from the cracks. A few kebab shops here and there, which look like they'd seriously struggle to pass a food safety inspection, have switched their neon lights on. 

At the next crossroads, where I’d usually take a left for the industrial estate, I take a right past the old church. Just a little further down the road, I’m surprised to see so many cars lining the small street on the right where the nursery is. Then it clicks that they obviously belong to parents picking their kids up. I don’t fancy my chances trying to find a space that close to the nursery, so I don’t bother turning, continuing instead down the road a few yards before pulling in next to the curb. I’m a bit early – it’s only 4:55 according to my phone - but I’m craving some fresh air, so I jump out of my Mini and head down the street.

There’s a few people milling around and chatting outside the gate of the nursery. I pull my phone out of my pocket and lean against a short stone wall next to them, while I wait for Marco. I’m just scrolling through Instagram when the murmurs around me grow quieter and I get the uneasy feeling I’m being watched. Glancing up, I see a couple of women looking in my direction before quickly turning their backs and carrying on with their conversation. I notice a few more wary glances and then I click. These people probably see each other every time they pick their kids up, and if they didn’t know each other personally, they certainly know each other’s faces. They’re no doubt wondering _Who the fuck is this guy?_ I really hope I don’t look suspicious. A particularly frumpy lady turns now, looks distastefully at the rips in the knees of my jeans and whips her head back round. _Shit._ I definitely look fucking suspicious. I debate shuffling a bit further away but realise that’ll make me look even worse. I decide staring at my phone is the best idea for now, but feel my cheeks going red as I will myself not to look like a child catcher. Thankfully the door opens just then, distracting everyone from the potential pedo in the unkempt jeans.

“Hello!” calls a cheery voice. A pretty girl with light brown hair comes out to unlock the gate. I’m expecting a bunch of kids to come running out, laughing with their friends and shouting for their adults, but instead, the parents all start walking through the gate and queuing at the open nursery door. I guess nursery kids are still pretty small - they must have too hand them over one by one. I hang back, not wanting to cause any more unease and suspicion. Although, I do think about how funny it would be to join the queue and pick up Marco, asking loudly if he had been a good boy today. _I don’t think we’re quite at that stage in our friendship Jean. Let’s not scare him off just yet._

The girl who opened the gate is now calling the names of kids as their adult gets to the front of the queue. I don’t see Marco. A few more people give me side-ways glances as they walk past to join the queue. It all seems way too sensible. Far more organised than I remember the end of the school day, when home time was basically just a massive free for all. A few people jump into cars with their tiny humans. The rest walk back up onto church street, holding hands or simply letting their kids run ahead. Probably hoping they’ll tire themselves out a bit more. That would be my plan anyway. Another lady hurries past me.

“Here she is Georgie!” the girl at the door shouts. A girl with blonde pigtails comes skipping out clutching a piece of paper, chanting ‘mammymammymammy!’.

The woman throws a word of thanks over her shoulder as she grabs the little girl’s hand.

“Look I drew a pic-cha of my tea-cha!” the little girl says gleefully, waving the piece of paper.

“Ooooh lovely sweetie. Is that Mr Bodt?”

 _Bodt! That’s how you pronounce his second name!_ I mentally thank them both for clearing that one up. As she trots past, I manage to catch a glimpse of the picture. The green squiggle doesn’t even look human, never mind like Marco. But the freakishly oversized head does appear to have dots scribbled all over it. At least she got the freckles right.

I’m just starting to wonder if Marco is even in there when he appears at the door, holding a tiny girl with dark brown hair on his hip. Like, even by nursery standards she’s tiny. You'd be forgiven for thinking he'd flipped his noodle and was holding a little porcelain doll. At first, I’m a bit taken aback. There’s something very odd about seeing Marco with a kid - I’ve always found it a bit weird seeing anyone my age with a kid. The concept just feels so alien to me. But then that feeling melts away and I decide it’s not weird in the slightest. It looks right on Marco. She’s clutching his burgundy jumper, silent tears streaming down her face. Marco smiles as he talks to her, clearly assuring her everything is fine. Looks like someone’s late to pick their sprog up. I can’t help but feel sorry for her. It’s easy to forget how scary it is to be that small and thinking you’ve lost your adult. But at least she's got Marco to comfort her, his free arm rubbing at her shoulder soothingly. It's actually really sweet and the corners of my mouth twitch into a fond smile as I look at them, warmth spreading through my chest.

He spots me as he’s scanning the street for any sign of the missing parent. _Please don’t tell me I was stood staring at him smiling like a total dork when he looked!_ If I was, he’s clearly taken no notice. His smile brightens and he gives me a quick wave before miming that he won’t be long. I nod in response and look back down at my phone, but the sound of a car engine makes my head snap back up. Someone is tearing down the road way too fast for such a narrow street. They screech to a halt, pull up just in front of me and hop out. It’s a woman with messy brown hair and a slightly crazed look in her eye. She flails past me, huffing and pushing her glasses back up her nose.

“Sorryyyyyy!” she shouts, skidding to a stop in front of Marco. “I got held up at work. Hey pumpkin!”

She holds out her arms, but the little girl just narrows her eyes and clutches Marco tightly. It’s both adorable and hilarious. She looks positively vengeful!

“Aww c’mon she said she was sorry,” Marco encourages.

“I’m sorry for making you worry darling. I promise I got here as fast as I could.” The girl continues to scowl but her grip on Marco slackens a fraction. “Okay, well you can stay here if you like, or…we can go meet daddy in the tea shop and have some chocolate cake!”

The little girl’s eyes go wide but I can tell she’s trying really hard not to betray her scowl, her lips almost twitching into a smile.

“Choccy! Choccy! Choccy cake!” cries the woman tickling the little girl. She squirms in Marco’s arms, squealing with laughter and is scooped up by her mother.

“There we go!” says Marco happily. “Everything all right at Bean’s?”

 _Bean’s? Does she work there too?_ I don’t recognise her, but then I never knew Marco worked there either.

“Yeah the Area Manager dropped by quite late but it was fine. I was practically pushing them out the door when my shift ended. Say bye to Mr Bodt Shelly Belly,” she says turning to her little girl.

“Bye Mr Bodt,” she says waving her tiny hand, even though she’s right in front of his face.

“Bye Kuchell. Have fun at the tea shop.”

“Oh we will,” the woman says turning to leave. “Levi’ll be picking her up the next couple of days but I’ll see you at work on Saturday ‘kay?” she calls over her shoulder.

“Okay no worries. See you Hanji. Bye Kuchell!”

“Bye!” they both call in unison, heading back to the car.

Marco walks up the path towards me. “Hey Jean. Sorry I’m a bit late. I just need to grab my stuff then we can go.”

“It’s fine man honestly don’t worry.”

“Alright two secs,” he says heading back inside.

He emerges a minute later wearing a leather jacket, carrying his guitar on one shoulder and a bag on the other. “See you tomorrow Petra!” he calls back inside and strides up the path towards me. “Did you find a parking space okay?” he asks as he reaches me.

“Yeah I’m just at the end of the road. All the parents beat me to the good spaces. Here let me give you a hand with that,” I offer grabbing his guitar case.

“Oh! Thanks,” he smiles, a little taken aback by my gesture. I’m a bit taken aback by it too to be honest.

“Well you’re making me feel bad carrying nothing when you’re loaded up like a pack mule.” He smiles wider, adjusting the bag on his other shoulder. “So where do you fancy going?” I ask.

“Well to be honest, I was going to ask you. I still don’t really know many places around Trost,” he says sheepishly.

I think for a moment. Unless he fancies the grotty pub a few streets over, there's certainly nowhere decent to go in this part of the city. I’m glad I’ve got my car.

“Okay, there’s a place I know not too far from here. Will only take a few minutes in the car.”

“Alright, sounds good.”

___________________________________

We drive back down to the church and take a right, heading just a little further away from Trost centre. The streets become tree-lined again and the houses a little grander. Rose Quarter is easily my favourite part of Trost. It’s like a miniature town of its own, full of independent stores and restaurants. There are a couple of decent bars around here too. Marco doesn’t say anything as we drive, he just gazes out the window with wide eyes and a soft smile. At first I feel a bit awkward, like I should say something, but I guess he’s just taking in his surroundings. This area is probably brand-new to him. I swing the car into a residential street that I know has free parking and bring the car to a stop.

“This area’s nice!” Marco says chirpily. We unclick our belts and jump out of the car.

“Yeah it’s tucked out of the way so you wouldn’t think to come here if you didn’t know Trost well. There’s lots of good places to eat on the main street though,” I add, locking the car and leading the way back up the road. I remember something I wanted to ask back at the nursery. “You know that woman who turned up late? Did I hear her say she worked at Bean’s?”

“Hanji? Yeah she’s the manager actually. Bit mental but she’s lovely,” he grins, falling into step with me as we head closer to the hustle and bustle. “Her little girl’s really quiet but she’s coming out of her shell a bit more now. She was having problems with some of the other kids at her old nursery so I told Hanji to give mine a try. I think she likes it much better.”

“What the hell kind of problems can nursery kids have?” I ask astonished. What could possibly be hard about playing in the sand pit all day?

“I know right? I think her old place was a bit well-to-do and the snotty parents had kids who were just as bad. Obviously my nursery’s not particularly affluent, just the opposite actually, but the kids are much nicer.” It’s kind of sweet how he says ‘ _my nursery’_ and from the way his eyes sparkle while he talks about it, I can tell he loves the place. “Sorry. I’m sure you don’t want to talk about nursery and kids stuff,” he says with an awkward laugh.

“What? No not at all! I was just thinking, I assumed kids from an area like that might be a bit of a handful. It’s not exactly the best place to live in Trost.”

“Oh!" he says, relieved. "Well, yeah, some of them can be but I don’t mind. They’re dealing with a lot at home y’know? They have good days and bad days. Mostly though they’re all quite sweet.”

I lead us around the corner. “So, what do you fancy? There’s a really good burger place there, Mexican a bit further along or _Reeve’s_ over the road, which does a bit of everything.”

“Burger sounds good!”

___________________________________

We snag a booth in the window – perfect for people watching – and order the works; burgers, fries, milkshakes and onion rings to share. We chat about nothing in particular – how he gets to work, how long it takes him blah blah - while we wait for our food. I feel at ease. I don’t know why I was so worried earlier. The conversation soon turns to the band and he starts quizzing me about Connie and Eren.

“So have you guys been playing together long?” he asks in between mouthfuls of his gigantic falafel and halloumi burger.

“Well we’ve been practising in some form or another since we were like, 17. But we only started taking it seriously about four years ago.”

“Oh, so you’ve known each other a while then?”

I take a nice long sip of my banana milkshake, nodding. “Yeah ages. I’ve been friends with Connie for as long as I can remember. I’ve known Eren a long time too but we didn’t exactly become friends until a few years ago.”

“Oh?” he says curiously, raising an eyebrow at me.

“Yeah we didn’t used to get along,” I chuckle. “But eventually we grew out of that. We’re really close now.”

Saying ‘we didn’t used to get along’ might be the understatement of the century. It would be more accurate to say we fucking hated each other. It wasn’t so bad when we were kids. We were in the same circle of friends and, aside from the occasional tug of war for Connie’s attentions, we were pretty much indifferent to each other. However, that changed dramatically when we were about 12 and I suddenly realised Eren’s sister, Mikasa, was the most astoundingly beautiful person I had ever seen in my life.

I don’t think I’ll ever forget that moment - my actual 'thunderbolt' moment. It was the school Christmas disco. I rocked up in my usual baggy jeans and baggy t-shirt (every inch the skater boy) but I was particularly excited to show off the brand new DC cap my dad had bought me specially for the occasion. I was wrestling it back from Connie when I looked up and there she was, walking into the school hall. I swear I nearly had a nose bleed. A few of the other girls followed closely behind but I barely registered them, I only had eyes for Mikasa. She was wearing a dark purple, velvet dress that swished just above her knees. As she walked towards us, my eyes were drawn down her dark tights to a pair of black glittering heels. They were short heels but that didn’t matter (I’d never seen Mikasa in heels before!) and I noticed the little wiggle they created in her walk. Then I noticed something else new, framed perfectly by her cascading black hair – eyeliner! It made her eyes look fucking amazing, her gaze piercing as she drew nearer still. There was also a slight shine to her lips. I found myself wondering what her lip gloss would taste like and then blushed furiously.

Ripping my gaze away from her, I looked first at the floor, then the ceiling and then at the boys. Connie was also bright red and looking down (probably having a similar reaction to Sasha), but Eren was staring right at me, his green eyes ablaze with fury. I’d been caught staring at his sister. I babbled something about needing a drink and practically ran towards the bench where the juice was being served. Connie followed me, both of us scrambling to get away before the girls noticed our scarlet faces.

Things between Eren and I deteriorated pretty quickly after that. He had nothing to worry about though. It soon became _painfully_ obvious that Mikasa did not and would never think of me the same way, but that didn’t stop him giving me the evil eye every time I went anywhere near her. We pretty much grew to hate each other - our arguing and namecalling more often than not descending into full-blown fights. I was once grounded for a fortnight in the summer holidays after I split his lip open. It was a lucky shot. I stumbled trying to hit him, so my fist collided with his face a bit harder than I had intended (or could even manage at that age). I was only 15 and it happened just after my dad had left us all. Eren made a cruel remark at my expense and I just lost it.

I think he regretted those words a few weeks later though, when his own dad walked out. You’d be forgiven for thinking that might have brought us closer together, but honestly, it just made things worse. Each of us a reflection of the other’s pain and anger. A reminder that we weren’t coping as well as we wanted others (and ourselves) to believe. He just confirmed what I didn’t want to admit - that I was just a weak little boy who desperately wanted his dad back. I think he felt that when he looked at me too. The fighting and arguments worsened to the point that we just agreed to stop speaking to each other. It was too exhausting, for both us and for our long-suffering friends.

When Eren’s mother died in a car accident less than two years later, however, everything changed. That day, like my parents telling me of their impending divorce or finding out my dad had left, is forever seared into my memory, the pain of it dampened over time but never fully gone. A memory that quickly brings a steel fist smashing into my gut if I dwell on it too long.

That was a fucking horrible day. I was at home when Connie rang me in a total panic. I couldn’t get my head around what he was saying. Mrs Jaeger was dead. Eren and Mikasa had rushed to the hospital but it was too late by the time they arrived. Eren had ran off and nobody knew where he was. I heard him tell me those things and I understood them, but I couldn’t process the reality of it all. It felt like he was telling me an awful story or explaining a nightmare. The only thing I could grasp was that I needed to get myself to Eren’s house. Now. Mikasa had asked us all to meet there and then search for Eren.

I fully expected to find Mikasa sobbing, with everyone gathered around trying to comfort her. The Jaegers were Mikasa’s Godparents and adopted her when she was about 7. She’d already suffered through the pain of losing her biological parents, the abandonment of Eren’s dad, and now she’d lost another mother. I couldn’t even begin to comprehend the amount of grief she was feeling. When I walked through the door and into the kitchen, however, there was…nothing. No crying. No hugging. Not even a sniffle. There were tell tale tracks down her cheeks but they had long since dried.

Her pale face whipped around and in a voice devoid of any emotion, she simply said, “Good everyone’s here now. Sasha and Historia check the park. Connie run down to the graveyard. I don’t think he’ll go there but it’s where his grandma is buried so you never know. Armin you’re with me. We’ll check the neighbours and nearby streets. He might just be wondering around.” Her words were cold, matter-of-fact. There was nothing behind her eyes. It was fucking scary.

“Wh-Where should I look Mikasa?” I stammered.

She started heading for the doorway, not even looking at me. “You stay here in case any of us call or in case Eren comes back.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Everyone took that as their cue to leave, faces distraught and anxious as they brushed passed me.

I don’t know how long I was on my own. I kept glancing at the clock but couldn’t actually take in the time, a million and one thoughts racing through my head.

I was chewing my fingers and pacing the kitchen floor when I looked up, and there he was. I froze, rooted to the spot as I stared out the window at him, making sure I wasn’t seeing things. He was just standing there in the garden, gazing off into space. I thought about calling out but I didn’t want to startle him. Instead, I opened the back door and tentatively padded out into the garden. He didn’t move. I walked a little further until I was in his line of sight, but he still didn’t take any notice. His piercing green eyes looked right through me.

“Eren?” I ventured in the gentlest voice I could manage.

He didn’t respond. I took a few small steps towards him. “Eren, I..”

Still nothing. I closed the gap and reached my hand towards his shoulder. “Eren I’m so-”

“No!” his eyes whipped up to meet mine and I jumped back, startled by the sudden reaction. He was gritting his teeth but I could see the corners of his eyes were wet and threatening to spill over.

I tried again. “Eren I’m so s-”

“NO!” he cried with more intensity, slapping my hand away from his shoulder.

I felt my own tears prickling as I took in the sheer amount of anguish written all over his face. “Eren please.”

“NO!” he raged, this time shoving his palms against my chest. Tears had started to pour down his cheeks. I stepped forward and reached my arms out again.

“No goddammit!” he pushed me again but with less force this time. I persevered and finally closed the gap, reaching my arms around his shoulders.

“N-oh!” His voice cracked painfully as he pounded my chest again, but he didn’t push me. The dull thuds vibrated through my whole body. “No…no, no, no!”

He drew in a shuddering breath…And then he broke. Half sobbing, half screaming against me, his hands desperately grasping handfuls of my t-shirt. I had to sink to my knees to support us both. And then I just held him while he let it all out, my own tears running silently down my face and into his hair.

“I’ve got you,” I whispered. “You’re okay I’ve got you. We’ve all got you Eren.”

“Eren!?” I turned to see Mikasa running down the side of the house towards us, Armin not far behind. Eren slackened his vice grip on my clothes and turned towards her, still sobbing. She skidded onto her knees and hooked both her arms under his. For a second, she just stared, wide-eyed.

And then she broke too. The sound of her agonised cries ripped through me and I felt another wave of tears cascading down my cheeks. I scrambled to my feet to give them some space. Armin, sniffling, walked slowly towards them, dropped to their knees and hugged them both without saying a word.

It was all too much. I gave a choked whimper and hurried back indoors. Sinking down against the sofa, I raised my fist to my mouth and bit down on my knuckle, trying to stifle my own cries. My eyes burned with the intensity of trying and failing to stop the tears. My throat felt ragged and raw from the effort of holding back my sobs. Eventually, I got myself under enough control to reach for the phone to tell the others to come back.

Eren and I were different after that. At first we were overly cautious around each other, like we were scared of saying something that sounded too harsh or insincere. However, we soon began to relax and things became easier, more natural. The closer we grew, the more I realised we’re alike in a lot of ways. We're both easily riled and can be hot-headed, but we care fiercely about our friends and will do anything to stop them getting hurt. These days, there’s not a lot I wouldn’t do for the guy and I’m sure he’d say the same about me. We know we’ll always have each other’s backs. It’s a comforting feeling.

“Do we have any gigs coming up then?” Marco asks, plunging me back into the present. My rumination has left an unpleasant, melancholic feeling twisting in my chest, but I try to shrug it off and bring my focus back to Marco. Before, I can answer his question, however, I find myself a bit distracted. Looking up, my eyes immediately lock onto a little blob of beetroot mayonnaise on his chin. I feel my face contorting into a wicked grin and have to suck in my bottom lip to keep from laughing in his face.

“D’you need a bib mate?” I ask cheekily, the corners of my mouth twitching uncontrollably.

“Hmm?” Marco mumbles around another mouthful of burger, quirking his eyebrow at me.

My eyes flick down to his chin and back up to his confused gaze. He must finally feel the mayo tickling his skin and swipes his hand across his chin, catching the blob deftly on the end of one finger. His cheeks and ears turn crimson as he realises just how much was there and I finally allow myself to laugh at his expense.

“Piss off,” he says and chucks a napkin at my face. He starts laughing too. I’m off the hook.

“Don’t throw that away you clearly need it!” I retort cheekliy.

“Well now _you’re_ gonna need it!” The finger with the blob zooms menacingly towards my face, threatening to jab my nose.

“Urgh! God get away!” I half laugh, half squeak, squishing myself as far back into the booth as I can and swat at his hand.

He laughs devilishly before popping the finger in his mouth to lick off the mayonnaise. My lower abdomen gives a short, sharp tug.

_What the fuck?_

I ignore the weird prickling sensation spreading out across my chest too and change the subject.

“A-anyway to answer your question, yes, we’ve got a couple of gigs coming up. Connie’s parents own a bar and we always play there the last Friday of the month.”

“So will that be next week?” His flush calms considerably as he thinks this over.

“Yeah. We’ve also signed up to a ‘Battle of the Bands’ next month. We’ve done one before. They’re usually a good laugh.”

“Oh! I’ve never done one of those. Sounds good.”

“Might be good to squeeze in an extra practise at some point next week if you’re free. Just so you can get your head around our songs for the gig on Friday.”

“Yeah I was just thinking the same. I’m sure I’ll be free on a couple of extra evenings. And I’ll practise on my own in the meantime.”

We continue to chat about the band, which soon turns into swapping funny or embarrassing stories about past gigs. Tears are escaping the corners of my eyes by the time he finishes telling me about a wedding gig, where the bride’s over-excited aunty pantsed him on stage in front of the whole wedding party.

“So you just left them down!?” I squawk.

“Well we were in the middle of a song and everyone had already got an eyeful of my superman boxers, so yeah.”

“Oh my god. Amazing.”

“I’m just glad she stopped at my jeans! I pulled them back up once the song finished. Reckon it was the biggest clap of the night.” My cheeks are stretched sore at this point from all the smiling and chuckling. “Anyway,” he continues, “the moral of the story is – Always wear a belt at weddings.”

My laughter abruptly stops when my eyes flit to the clock on the back wall.

“Fuck is that right?” I look at my watch and then my phone just to make sure. “Shit Marco it’s five to seven!”

“Oh! Oops. We best get the bill then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loved writing the flashback stuff so much!
> 
> Also - Jean walking around his flat in the buff. Good gracious! You're welcome for the mental image ;)
> 
> Chapter 4 is ready to go straight up as I originally had it all as Chapter 3 but decided I should split it up? I'm still learning. Apologies if the story doesn't flow as well.
> 
> Any feedback welcome! I really want to improve! :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What keeps me here?  
> It’s not the boy giving the funny feels  
> Don’t know what keeps me here  
> It’s not the P to pay for the wheel  
> What the hell keeps me here?  
> In this dark old town that I adore  
> The rules don’t seem so clear  
> And change, it feels like fear, it's all you know

“Ohhhhh! Nice of you to join us!” Connie says in his best ‘sarcastic little shit’ voice as Marco and I walk in.

“Fuck of Springer. I just watched you rushing inside with half your kit about thirty seconds ahead of us!” I snap.

“We would’ve been on time if this dick head hadn’t left one of his drums behind,” Eren says nodding towards Connie.

“Exactly. And we were _still_ here before Wingus and Dingus over there.”

“Alright! Alright! We gonna play or what?” I huff, unhooking my guitar strap and walking over to the amp.

I catch Connie smirking at Eren, who just rolls his eyes in response. Marco walks (a little timidly) over to the free amp on my left. We haven’t been here for a few weeks, so everything takes a little longer than usual to set up. We all have to pitch in to help Connie with his drums once the guitars are ready to go.

Our practise space is nothing special – a room in an old warehouse in the rough part of Trost – but it’s hella cheap to rent. Plus it’s right next to a new industrial estate, which nearly always has a security guard milling around the entrance, so we can leave our heavier bits of kit here if need be, without having to worry about some scummy little shitbag thieving them.

“Right okay, what d’you guys wanna play first?” Eren asks once we’re set up, retightening his man bun. Marco scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. I figure he’s a little nervous, this being his first time with us an’ all.

“Something fun and easy! I’m tired as fuck,” complains Connie.

“Longview?” I ask, thinking something simple will help Marco get into the swing of things.

“Fuck yes! Not played that for ages!” says Connie.

“That okay Marco?” I have no reason to doubt he won’t know it but it seems polite to ask.

“Yeah sounds good,” he beams, looking a little happier.

Connie counts us in and sets a rhythm, with Marco’s bass joining in soon after. I don’t want to make him feel more self-conscious but I can’t help the sneaky glances I keep throwing his way, watching him play. I swear I’m just checking he’s okay! Though it soon becomes obvious that any remaining shreds of self-doubt have melted away. He’s back to bobbing his head and grinning to himself, just like in his audition. I almost miss my cue to start singing.

_For fuck’s sake Jean make a good impression! He could still decide to walk away if he thinks we’re shit._

I soon settle into a rhythm and am pleased to discover, we’re not shit, in fact we sound pretty fucking good together! It feels almost therapeutic to belt out a few notes, even if my voice is a bit gravelly from lack of use, and I relish in the sensation of my fingers flexing and curling on my guitar. I haven’t really played too much this week, I realise guiltily. I’m sure that’ll change now that we’re a four piece again.

Marco leads us into the last stretch of the song, finishing with a flourish that’s just a little unnecessary. He gives me a wicked smirk and it’s like I’m looking at a different person. _Who’s this cheeky fucker all of a sudden?_ I think and look away in the hope of stopping the burning sensation prickling over my ears. It doesn’t. He’s so confident with that guitar in his hands now. His grip. His posture. Everything about him just oozes self-assuredness.

“Nice to know you weren’t just a fluke Marco,” Eren pipes up with a cheeky grin.

Marco smiles sheepishly, “Thanks.” _There’s that neck scratch again_. We’re back to regular Marco.

“I dunno if Jean mentioned,” Eren starts, “but we always play Connie’s bar at the end of the month.”

“Oh, yeah, he said. Was thinking it’d be good to start learning your set list straight away…if that’s alright?”

“Yeah man, ‘course. What d’ya reckon we should start with?” Eren asks turning in the direction of Connie and then me.

“Jail?” I suggest. “Bass is relatively simple on that one.”

“Err no it isn’t, you just have a major boner for that fucking song!” Connie smriks.

“It’s a good fucking song! And you’re just saying it’s hard ‘cos you couldn’t do the fucking bass when we tried to teach you. Anyway,” I glance towards Marco, “I’m sure he can handle it.” It was true though. I do love that song. It’s one of the first tracks I wrote and composed all on my own. I’m fucking proud of it. And maybe a small part of me wants to show off a little to Marco. Maybe (definitely).

I start playing the opening riff for Marco’s benefit, explaining the change for the bridge and the chorus.

“It’s a little different after that so do you wanna just try the first half?”

“Yeah okay I think I got it,” he smiles.

“Okay cool. I’ll give you a nod for the changes alright?”

“Bass and drums start at the same time so I’ll count you in Marco,” Connie adds.

He clicks his sticks together and starts beating, his brow furrowing slightly. _Funny_ I think. _The only time I ever see Connie looking deadly serious is when he’s drumming._ Marco’s managing great so far, deep in concentration, only glancing up when Eren’s guitar joins in. But he’s not fazed by it, if anything he gets more into it.

I wet my lips and let out a long exhale to relax my throat. I keep my voice gentle to begin with, letting it build slowly with the music.

_“I promise to commit no acts of violence,_

_Either physical, or otherwise_

_If things come alive.”_

Using my cue to start playing, I give Marco a little nod for the change. It’s seamless, like he’s played the song a thousand times. Grinning, I draw in a deep breath, ready to sing with a little more gusto, giving Marco another nod for the next change.

_“Remember take hold of your time here,_

_Give some meanings to the means_

_To your end.”_

He falters a little when I start singing with more effort. I look over. He’s bright fucking red and whips his eyes away from mine. I keep my own fixed on his anxious face and, when he eventually returns my gaze, give him what I hope is a reassuring smile. Trying to say without actually saying _It’s fine. No big deal. You’re doing great._ He seems to get the message and returns my look with a lopsided grin. Embarrassed, but over it and he’s soon strumming confidently again.

After practising the second half, we run through a few more songs together. Marco picks everything up relatively quickly and I feel assured that he’ll nail it by the time our gig rolls around. It’s good to be playing as a four again. There’s a lot of laughing and joking between songs. Mainly at Connie’s expense. He brings it on himself to be fair. It doesn't even dawn on me that we’ve been at it for over an hour until Connie says, “Right. Fancy one last cover to finish?”

“Oh! How ‘bout Wolf Alice?” I suggest. “Get us in the mood for tomorrow?”

Connie’s face falls. “Oh. Yeah. About that.” I do not like where this is going. “I can’t go anymore man. I have to work.”

“WHAT!?”

“Dad’s got the flu alright. Me and mam had to force him to go home today. There’s no way he’ll be in any shape to work tomorrow.”

“i’m goin”

“Well get the Saturday staff to cover it!!”

“We tried alright no-one’s free. You know how busy it usually gets on a Friday Jean. I can’t just leave Mam and Thomas on their own.”

“I’m going.”

“It’s gonna be a bit fucking shit on my own Con!”

“It’s Wolf Alice Jean. It’s not gonna be shit.”

“I’m going!”

“You know what I mean Con! I’m gonna look like a right fucking weirdo just standing there with no-one to dance with or talk to!”

“I’m go-”

“Well there’s nothing I can do okay!?”

“GUYS!!!” Eren yells moving in between us.

“WHAT!!??” Connie and I say in unison with equally furious faces.

“Fucking shut up and listen to Marco!” _Marco?_ I blink a couple of times and turn. He’s biting his lip, clearly trying not to laugh.

“I said I’m going,” he chuckles.

“Wh- You are?” I gape.

“Halle-fucking-lujah!” cries Eren, exasperated and looking up at the ceiling.

“Y-yeah,” Marco stutters through a laugh, his smile growing bigger by the second. “Me and my friend Bert from uni are going. You’re more than welcome to come with.”

My tantrum over, I feel a great wave of relief. “Aw that would be great, thanks Marco.” I turn back to the drums, feeling a bit embarrassed now that I’ve calmed down. “Sorry Con. I know it’s not your fault.”

Connie lapses back into his usual goofy grin. “S’alright babe I forgive you.”

“Fuck off,” I splutter through a snort.

“Look if it’s not busy, Mam will let me duck out early so I might catch the end if I’m lucky. It’s a week until payday so you never know...it might be quiet. Could you go at short notice Eren? You’re welcome to the ticket if I can’t use it.”

“Nah. I’m out with work for someone’s birthday remember? Thanks though.”

As we pack up, Marco and I make a vague plan for tomorrow night. I’m working at the bar until half 7 so I’ll miss most of the support act (not that I’m bothered) but I tell him I’ll drop him a text when I’m on my way. Thankfully, Connie decides to leave his drums and we decide to leave the amps too, so we only have our guitars to carry out to the car.

Marco’s heading in the direction of my Mini when Connie pipes up. “Hey Marco, you live in South Trost right?”

“Yeah that’s right,” he says cheerfully.

“You want a lift? I’m taking Eren back that way so it’s no bother.”

My nose wrinkles as I feel an ugly stab of jealousy. _I brought him!_ my mind screams and I have to tell myself to stop being so fucking immature. My inner child wants to stomp over there and drag Marco away by the wrist, like I used to with Connie whenever I felt he was spending too much time playing with Eren. _You’re twenty fucking four Jean. Get. A. Grip._

“Oh! Erm,” his eyes flit back and forth between me and Connie like he wants my permission. “Yeah thank you. That’d be great. That okay Jean?” Jesus fucking Christ he actually asked!

“Wha-? Yeah ‘course it is!”

_Liar._

_(Shut the fuck up)_

I try to make it sound like he’s ridiculous for even asking, though the immature part of me is secretly thrilled. “Makes sense if Connie drops you both off. I’ll text you tomorrow about the gig,” I say opening the door to my car.

“Okay see you tomorrow then,” he half smiles heading to the van.

“See you. See you Eren.” He gives me a quick salute. “I’ll see you at home Con!”

“M’kay!” Connie shouts over the rumble of the van’s engine.

I watch them swing round and drive off with a screech typical of Connie’s erratic driving. _Guess I’ll go home on my own then_ I pout internally. My more rational voice tells me firmly to stop being such a brat and I shove the keys in the ignition.

___________________________________

My shift at the bar is fucking manic. A large group in business clothes rock up at about half 4. Seems they’ve finished early and are celebrating someone’s retirement. They’re half cut (and really fucking loud) by the time my shift ends. Connie throws me a sad smile as I push my way to the exit. I return it with one of my own. Normally I take great pleasure in rubbing it in Connie’s face whenever my shift finishes before his, but I’m genuinely gutted he’s not coming with me. Plus I think I’d tip him over the edge if I dared take the piss.

“Have fun!” he manages to call over the hubbub of music and screechy drunken chatter.

“Might see you later!”

He twists his face as he casts his eyes over the place. Clearly unconvinced he’ll be going anywhere tonight.

“Maybe…Later!”

I decide to Uber there. Trost Academy is awkward to reach by bus and I’m not about to walk. I roll the sleeves down on my red plaid shirt in a feeble attempt to keep the chill out. I should enjoy the cold while it lasts, it’ll be hot as balls in the venue – always is. I don’t wait long for the taxi and send Marco a quick text to say I’m on the way.

_**ItsaMeeMarco:** _

**Okay we’re at the back on the small balcony near the bar :)**

There’s a few people milling around outside, smoking and chatting, when I arrive but no queue. Most people obviously already inside enjoying (or simply tolerating) the support act. There’s a surge of sound as I swing the door open and I can feel the bass vibrating up through my feet as I trot up the first set of stairs. Entering the main stage area, it takes me a while to get my bearings. I used to come here constantly when I was working full time, but after my redundancy, I’ve had to cut back on luxuries like gig tickets, and the place has been refurbished since I was last here.

There’s a short staircase a little further along on the right that leads to a raised area. There’s a bar against the back. This must be where Marco is. I decide to get a drink before I hunt for him, the many plastic cups sloshing past me causing a dry feeling in my throat. I just manage to squeeze into a space left vacant by a guy impressively carrying six big cups of beer.

I’m sweating like Connie in a maths test already, my shirt clinging uncomfortably around my neckline. Luckily I don’t wait long to get served. I flash my best smile to a girl behind the bar with black pigtails and she nods in my direction. I order a cheap pint. It tastes like crap but I didn’t exactly come here for the fabulous drinks selection, and even if they had one, my funds wouldn’t allow it. There’s a lull in the noise as the support band finishes their set and I shimmy my way back through the throng of people, searching for a mop of black hair.

I’m so busy looking around that I don’t notice he’s right under my nose.

“Hey!”

I jump a little as a hand grips my bicep. “Oh! Hey!” I smile, a little taken aback. Marco’s face splits in a big goofy grin, cheeks a little flushed. He’s wearing superskinny black jeans with a brown belt, that hugs his hips just a little too low, and a black and white Vans top. _Shit. I wish I looked that built in a t-shirt. Def hitting the gym this weekend_. I also spy a half-sleeve I’ve never noticed before, starting at the elbow of his right arm. Batman's definitely in there and an awesome looking Cloud Strife but it’s hard to tell what else in this light.

“I’m so glad you’re here man!”

“I- You are!?” I stammer. I need to get out of this fucking shirt, it’s far too hot in here.

“Yeah my friend Bert brought his new boyfriend along and I feel like such a third wheel.”

“Oh. Erm, where are they?”

“Just over here by the railing. C’mon I’ll introduce you.”

He weaves his way through the crowd and I follow closely, not wanting to get lost. Though I nearly do when a group of girls heading to the bar cuts in between us. Marco doesn’t realise at first and I worry I’m about to lose sight of him, until he turns and sees me holding my drink above my head, trying to squeeze around the last girl. He grins, reaching back and tugging me forward by the forearm.

There’s a guy built like a bean pole leaning against the railing, grinning at a blonde dude in front of him as he sips his drink. The blonde is pretty tall too but it’s his shoulders I notice first. This guy’s built like a fucking tank! His bear-like hand grips a drink while the other caresses his boyfriend’s hip. The taller of the two gives Marco a small wave as we get closer, before kissing the big blonde on the forehead. Jesus, I see what Marco means. Almost feels like we’re intruding on something.

“This is Jean,” Marco says jovially as we squash next to them – much to the annoyance of the people next to us. _Sorry bitches this is our space now!_ “Jean this is Bert and Reiner,” he says gesturing to each in turn. Bert untangles his hands from Reiner to shake my hand but Reiner just nods and gives me a broad smile, clearly unable to detach himself from Bert for more than a second.

We chat about how everyone knows each other (though apparently this is the first time Marco’s met Reiner too). They ask me about the band, but can’t seem to tear their eyes away from each other for more than a minute and keep stopping the flow of conversation with comments and jokes that only they know the meaning of. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not rude exactly – they both seem like genuinely lovely guys – but they’re so wrapped up in each other that it’s a bit of a relief when Marco asks me how work was and I can leave them to their canoodling.

“Really busy when I left. An office retirement party came in and they were really going for it! Connie looked so fucking glum when I left. I feel so bad for him,” I laugh sadly.

“Mmm. How’s his dad?” Anyone else would probably be more interested in the retirement shenanigans but Marco looks genuinely concerned. _Bless him_ I think. _He’s such a sweet guy._

“The flu’s got him wiped out. Con’s mam has even given him a bell to ring ‘cos he doesn’t even have the strength to shout for her. She’ll regret that when he starts feeling better!”

“Ha! Yeah I bet!”

Out the corner of my eye I spot Bert and Reiner locking lips with just a little too much enthusiasm for such a public place and snap my gaze back to Marco. “Sooo…how you feeling after our first practise anyway? No regrets about joining?” I ask half joking, half hoping I get a reassuring answer.

“Mmm!” he says sipping his drink and nodding. “Really good man! It’s nice to be playing again. I haven’t really had the chance since moving here. I hope I wasn’t too rusty.”

“What? No you were great!” I say a little too enthusiastically. “I mean err, yeah we’re good together. _Sound_ good together. All of us I mean.” _Smooth Jean. Very smooth._

“We’ll be back in a sec,” Bert interrupts. “Keep our spaces yeah?” He grabs Reiner’s hand and they head off towards the bar.

It doesn’t take long for my eyes to lock with Marco’s, the same wicked smirk plastered across his face and we both start giggling like a couple of school girls.

“Do you see what I mean now?” he laughs.

“Jesus Christ you weren’t kidding!” I’m so glad I’m not the only one thinking it’s a bit much. I take advantage of the extra space left by the love birds and finally take my shirt off, tying it round my waist as best as I can with a beer in my hand. “They’re a bit… _handsy_ with each other aren’t they?”

“Yeah it’s like they don’t even realise!”

“I’m no good with PDA man I don’t know how they can do it,” I say shaking my head. “No wonder you were so glad to see me. Don’t you dare leave me alone with them! If you need a piss I’m coming for moral support.”

“Thanks. I’ve always wanted someone to hold my hand while I pee.” My drink splutters so violently against my lips I’m surprised it doesn’t go up my nostrils. “Oh my god! You alright?!” Marco asks, laughing hysterically.

I cough against the back of hand, my eyes watering slightly. “Pervert,” I manage to choke out. “I’ll take my chances with tank and bean pole in that case.”

Marco laughs again, though I can’t tell whether it’s at the nicknames or the fact that I’m still recovering from nearly choking. And then I’m laughing too, both of us trying not to snicker and failing every time we look at each other.

“Oh! Speak of the devil!” I warn when I spot Bert heading back in our direction.

“Right okay we need to shut up now,” Marco says, trying and failing to be serious.

“You shut up.”

“YOU shut up!” He retorts jabbing me in the arm.

“Alright ladies break it up,” Reiner grins carrying four cups of beer, thankfully oblivious to the subject of our conversation. “Here grab one!”

“Oh! Thanks man I’ll get the next one,” I say gratefully taking a beer, even though I’ve barely finished half of my first one. I’m just wondering why Bert didn’t help Reiner carry them when he squeezes in beside him, carrying four Jager bombs. _Ohhh fuck!_

“What’s this!?” Marco says.

“What’s it look like?” Bert replies with a grin.

“Shit I’ve got work tomorrow!” Marco protests but his hand is already grabbing a drink.

“One isn’t gonna hurt!” Bert says, offering one to Reiner.

I don’t have enough hands for this. “Shit hang on,” I say and tip my half pint back, gulping it down my throat as quick as I can manage. Marco looks at me with a wide-eyed, slightly amused look on his face. I give him a quick wink and he looks away shaking his head. Chucking my full cup inside the empty one, I grab the last Jager bomb.

“Cheers bitches,” Reiner bellows. We don’t so much clink our drinks together as we do smoosh them, the plastic bending and contorting in our hands.

I throw it back and enjoy the warm sensation flowing down my throat, settling nicely in my stomach. Marco makes a face and quickly chases his with some beer. Reiner barely flinches. I smirk a little when Bert picks them all back out of our hands, like a mother hen, and stacks the different size cups together neatly. He looks round for a place to put them down, but not being able to find one, shrugs and chucks them on the floor anyway.

“Can you hold this?” Marco asks pushing his beer towards me. “Gonna go pee before Alice come on.” He sees my eyes widen in fear at the realisation that I’ll be left with no one to save me from the canoodlings of tank and bean pole. “Unless you need it too?” he adds and it’s with the same wicked smile he gave me during practise yesterday. I purse my lips knowing fine well he’s thinking about our earlier conversation.

“Err no. I’m good thanks,” I say trying to sound firm. He just laughs and pushes his way through the crowd, which has grown tighter in the past few minutes.

 _Please just talk to me. Please don’t start eating each other’s face again_ I silently plead turning towards Bert and Reiner.

“You seen Wolf Alice before?” Reiner asks. _Thank fucking god._

“Kind of. I saw them at a festival a few years back when they were starting out but I was too drunk to remember it. You?”

“Ha! Yeah I saw them a couple of years ago. Got dragged along by a mate but they were really fucking good. Bert’s not seen them before, have you?” he asks turning to Bert and snaking and arm around his waist. _Just stop right there you two._

Bert joins in the conversation, telling us how excited he was about getting tickets when he found out Marco was moving here and how Reiner, by a happy coincidence, already had one when they met a month ago. I ask them how they met, hoping that will keep their focus on me rather than each other, but it just makes them go all gooey again, mocking each other’s first attempts at flirting and bad dance moves.

Thankfully a sudden surge in noise diverts their attention. The lights have gone down again and the band are starting to filter onto the stage. I feel the people behind us rock forward slightly as everyone packs closer to the front.

I look around for Marco but at first all I see are the angry faces of people stuck behind the giant that is Bert, craning their necks to try and see around him. _Ha! Good luck with that!_ Then I spot him, awkwardly trying to push his way forward. When he eventually reaches us, I turn side-on so he can squeeze into the gap I leave behind.

“Did you manage okay without me?” I ask cheekily, leaning in so he can hear me over the roar of the crowd.

“Just about.” He turns his attention to the stage then and starts whooping, hands cupped around his mouth. I do too as Ellie Roswell joins the rest of the band. Blonde hair, silk dress and biker boots strut across the stage as she swings her guitar strap around her lithe shoulders, like the love child of Courtney Love and Sid Vicious. Every inch a goddess.

Marco’s train of thought is clearly on the same track as mine. “She’s gorgeous isn’t she?” he says, not taking his eyes off her.

“Yeah, fucking unreal.”

Grimy guitar strings and punchy drums slowly build to fill the room. It’s like a charge of static rips through the crowd as everyone recognises the start of ‘ _Your loves whore_ ’. _Fuck yes! Fucking love this one!_ Still feeling the warm buzz from the Jager bomb, I give in to the sway of the crowd around me and get lost in the noise.

The gig is fucking epic. I only tear myself away once in the first half to get drinks for us all, keen to repay Bert and Reiner for their earlier generosity. There’s barely any queue, and I end up singing (screeching) the chorus of ‘ _Don’t delete the kisses_ ’ with a random girl while I wait, the barman serving us joining in too. She buys me a shot. I don’t refuse it, knocking it back with a smile. There’s an affable atmosphere in the place. Everyone’s out for a good time and there’s no dickheads looking for a fight or too drunk to enjoy themselves. No one’s pushed us or tried to shove us out of our sweet viewing spot either. Bert’s even made friends with the tiny girls stuck behind him, letting them take turns to squish in front of him for a song or two and mockingly resting his arm on their heads.

I nudge my way back to everyone with four beers. Marco seems less concerned about work tomorrow with every drink. It’s nice. I feel totally at ease with him and I can tell he feels the same, unashamedly belting out his favourite songs and dancing like a dork when space permits. Not that my moves are any better, but the welcome tingle of alcohol running around my body rids me of any inhibitions and I let loose.

A mosh pit forms when Ellie starts belting out ‘ _Yuk Foo_ ’ and I decide I’ve been up on the balcony long enough, itching to jump right into the mess below. “You wanna go?” I ask Marco, looking from him to the mosh and waggling my eyebrows.

His carefree expression falters and his eyes-widen. “Oh! Erm. I’ve never been in a mosh pit before.”

“What!? Never??”

“No?” He looks a little embarrassed. It’s kind of cute.

“We definitely have to then!” He still doesn’t look convinced. “C’mon! A big strong guy like you ‘ill have nothing to worry about! Just for one song?”

“Right okay then,” he huffs.

I grin like a Cheshire cat and down the rest of my drink. “Ladies,” I say to the tiny girls Bert and Reiner have befriended, gesturing for them to take our place, and grab Marco by the arm. It’s manic down on the floor and I lose my grip on him  a few times. _Fuck it_ I think and grab him by the hand instead. By the time we squeeze our way to the edge of the pit the song’s over but the band dive straight into ‘ _Space and Time_ ’ and keep the energy going.

“Fuck yes!” I scream at Marco. “Ready?”

He gives me a lopsided smile and shrugs, which I take as a yes and throw myself into the riot. It’s been too fucking long since I did this. The adrenaline rushes through me and I scream along with Ellie and the others in the pit. Each shove ricochets through me into the next person. I’m really fucking glad I decided to wear my DMs when a huge dude accidentally stamps on my foot but it’s all in good fun.

Marco flies passed me a few times wearing a look of pure joy and I’m practically giddy in knowledge that I convinced him to do this. He laughs as he gives me a playful push but I bounce off some guy and right back into Marco, sending him flying into the middle. He stumbles backwards and a random elbow collides with his chest a bit too hard. A look of apprehension flashes across his face so I make a grab for him. Pulling him by his wrist and then snaking an arm around his waist, I tug him back against me to the relative safety of the pit edge.

“Hey you alright?” I grin over his shoulder.

“Yeah I think so!” He’s still smiling. No damage done. “You maybe wanna grab a drink? I’m dyin’ of thirst!”

We catch a breather at the bar, our faces flushed and hair a little damp. Marco let’s out a big puff of breath after downing half his pint of water. “Thanks for looking after me,” he pants. “It was actually really fun despite that rogue arm smacking me!”

I’m beaming at him like an idiot but I am way too tipsy to give a fuck. “I knew you’d love it! Here’s to popping your mosh pit cherry!” I smirk, raising my cup of water in a mock toast. “Guess you didn’t get many of those in Jinae then?”

“God no! Jinae’s way too quiet for anything like that!”

I sigh contentedly as ‘ _Planet Hunter_ ’ starts, a perfect antithesis to the mosh madness. Marco continues, “You had to travel to Trost or Shiganshina for decent gigs when I lived there and I could never afford it.” He looks a little crest fallen and gazes down at his drink through long eyelashes. _Jesus, they really are long_.

Keen to keep his spirits high, I wrap an arm around his broad shoulders for a side hug. “Well you can make up for it now you live here!” His muscles feel taut beneath my arm. I find I don’t really want to let go. “Seriously I’m always up for a gig, if there’s anything coming up that you fancy, let me know.”

‘ _A moment’s madness compliments your innocence’_

“Thanks Jean.” He says it so softly my chest clenches at his genuineness. _Your arm is still around him you know._ I let it drop, realising it’s probably lingered longer than necessary. I blame the alcohol.

_‘I tried all night to initiate’_

“I thought I was gonna find it really hard living in Trost but if I keep meeting people like you, I reckon I’ll be alright.” He gives me the tiniest of smiles, but he can’t quite meet my eyes and I’m so fucking grateful. If he had, he might’ve noticed my gaze drifting to the tiny bead of water clinging to his lips.

_‘And I only ever tried to have fun I’m only old when I don’t feel young’_

“I’m glad.” I have to look away.

“Seriously Jean.” That makes my eyes snap back up. “Joining the band. Meeting you and the others. It means more than you know.” There’s something so sad behind his eyes.

_‘And if you’re with me, yeah you can come, yeah, along’_

“Hey…Marco?”

His eyes dart to something over my shoulder and I feel like a wall’s just collapsed on top of me.

“WHAT THE FU-!”

“JEEEAAAAANNNNNNNN!” Connie fucking Springer. I’d know that voice anywhere. I all but slam into the bar as he pounces on me. “Alright mother fuckers!!?”

Marco’s laughing at the two of us, though mainly at my face I imagine. I manage to throw Connie off me and steady myself. “When the hell did you get here?” I say exasperated.

“Nice to see you too! I just got here. I was on my way for a slash and spotted you. Listen get me a drink will you? I’m gonna piss my pants if I wait any longer!” And with that he sprints off towards the Men’s.

Feeling considerably less tipsy after Connie’s surprise attack, I look back at Marco, who chuckles with a sly grin. “Sorry for not warning you. I just...kind of wanted to see what he was going to do.” The moment (whatever the moment was) is gone and we’re back to piss taking and silliness.

“Oh I’ll get you back sometime. Don’t worry about that! Do you want a drink too?”

“Just another water please. I don’t wanna be hungover for work tomorrow.”

I order an extra shot for Connie to help him catch up. He returns just as ‘ _Bros_ ’ starts playing and excitedly gives me a big sloppy kiss on the cheek. It’s gross but I can’t bring myself to be mad at him when he looks so fucking happy to be here. I’m glad he’s here too and I feel a little guilty for having had such a good time so far without him. With Marco instead.

“How’d you get out early?” I ask.

“Oh my god!” he yells above the music and leans his head in so both Marco and I can hear. “The guy who was retiring got so smashed he passed out!”

“Shit! Really!?”

“Yeah he was dancing to ‘ _More than a feeling’_ , fucking tie around his head and everything and then he just hit the deck!”

“Fucking hell.”

“Yep. Smashed his nose. Fucking blood everywhere. It was hysterical!” Marco claps his hand over his mouth but he’s laughing at the poor guy’s misfortune just as much as Connie and me. “Anyway we had to ring an ambulance and most people left soon after. Killed the ambience a little bit.”

"Ha ha! I bet!"

I was starting to flag a little at the bar but Connie reenergizes me, dancing, singing and jumping around like a lunatic. He even convinces Marco to dive back into the mosh pit for ‘ _You’re a germ’_ , though I stick to the sides this time, playfully pushing them both every chance I get. That fucking guy with the flailing elbows is back though. I see one heading in Marco’s direction again but he manages to swing out of the way this time. Connie, however, does not, and collides with it - face first. Blood is streaming down his face within seconds. He staggers backwards into Marco who slings a protective arm around his shoulders, his face knitting into immediate concern. Mine does too. Sort of. Like, I am concerned, but even I can’t contain my laughter when I rush over to help drag him out.

“Oh my god Connie that was classic! Definite karma for you taking the piss out of that retired bloke!” Marco shoots me a disapproving look and smacks my arm.

“Fuck off Jean!” Connie yells, but it sounds more like 'fu fff  on' with his hand clasped over his mouth.

The barman obligingly passes us some ice and tissues when he see’s the blood on Connie’s face and top. We (though mainly Marco) sit him down with a drink of water and help clean him up.

“I’m first aid trained for work. This isn’t my first nose bleed!” Marco smiles. “It doesn’t seem broken at any rate, though I wouldn’t be surprised if you have some bruising tomorrow mate. That was a helluva whack!”

“Thanks nurse,” Connie grins, holding the make-shift ice pack to his face.

We steer well clear of the crowd after that, enjoying the encore together at the back where there’s more space. My throat is ragged and raw by the end from all the singing and screaming. We decide to head straight outside so Marco can give Bert a ring, Connie hangs back to use the toilet again.

“He’s not picking up. I’ll try again in a minute,” Marco says sliding his phone back in his pocket. I’ve had such a good night with Marco, I’m tempted to ask him to stay out for a few more drinks. But I already know the answer. He’s said enough times he’s got work tomorrow.

“Oh hey I meant to tell you,” I say suddenly remembering. “A lot of us are heading round Eren’s tomorrow night if you fancy it? Should be a laugh.”

“Oh! Thanks but err…I’m busy tomorrow. I kind of have a date.”

“A date!?” _What the hell?_ “I mean…shit, you’re a fast worker aren’t you? You’ve only been in Trost five minutes! A date with who?”

“Well, not so much a date.”

_Oh?_

“I’m seeing my…boyfriend? I guess it’s unofficially official now.”

_Oh._

I firmly ignore the knife twisting in my stomach, telling myself it’s just the mixture of drinks I’ve had. “Boyfriend?” I don’t mean for it to come out the way it does, like it’s a bad thing.

“Yeah…I’m err…I’m Bi,” Marco says eyeing me nervously, hands dug into his pockets.

“Oh! Okay, that’s cool. Great! Actually. I mean…err…I am too. Bi that is.” _Wow. Eloquent Kirschtein._

“Oh!” His face breaks out into a smile again, thank fuck.

“Yeah. I like guys too. And also girls.” _Well done Captain obvious! Stop talking._ “Not that I have much experience with guys.” _Oh my god shut up._ “Like don’t get me wrong I’ve been with plenty of girls!” _Shut up!_ “I’ve just never had a boyfriend or anything.” _STOP. NOW._

By the time I finish babbling, his eye brows are so far up his forehead I’m worried they’ll disappear into his hairline. “O-Okay,” he stammers, grinning at me, clearly amused. “That’s okay. I’ve not had much experience with girls to be honest. We should swap notes!” he adds jostling me with his shoulder

We both laugh and it’s such a fucking relief. “Yeah…maybe we should!” I think on the implications of what I’ve heard. “Anyway how’d you manage to snag yourself a boyfriend already? You’ve been in Trost what…like two months?”

He scratches the back of his neck and gives me a lopsided grin. “Yeah, well, he was kind of one of our moving guys and he asked me out so…yeah. I’ve been seeing him off and on since I came to Trost.”

“Christ. You don’t waste much time do you Bodt!” I laugh.

He blushes and gazes down at his shoes. “Look thanks for the invite. We don’t have definite plans yet so maybe we’ll swing by later on. I mean, if you think that will be okay with Eren,” he says looking back towards me, worried he’s being presumptuous.

“Oh yeah of course. Everyone’s welcome.”

“Marco!” We both turn to see Bert waving a little further down the street, Reiner laughing with someone I don’t know next to him. Marco waves back.

“Bert’s sister offered to give us all lift so I’ll be off. Will you and Connie be okay?”

“Yeah ‘course we will no worries.”

“Okay. I might see you tomorrow night then yeah?”

“Yeah.” And I don’t know what comes over me but I’m pulling him into a warm hug before I finish speaking. “See you tomorrow mate.”

He hugs me back and turns to go with a wave, jogging lightly to catch up with Bert and Reiner. I sit down on the pavement and wait for Connie ‘walking disaster’ Springer, hoping he’s managed to avoid anymore scrapes between here and the toilet. I zone out for a moment, wondering who this ‘boyfriend’ is that’s swept Marco off their feet in such a short space of time. I can’t decide whether I’m looking forward to tomorrow night or not.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Jean, you are in so much denial!
> 
> I hope the atmosphere and playfulness of the gig came across. I had a lot of fun imagining these two dorks in that kind of setting :)
> 
> Also the song in band practise is 'Not Even Jail' by Interpol. I may have a slight kink for imagining Jean with that singing voice *sploosh*


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Put your arms around somebody else  
> And don't punish yourself, punish yourself  
> The truth is like blood underneath your fingernails  
> You don't wanna hurt yourself, hurt yourself  
> By looking too closely

Connie and I finish at the bar around seven and rock up at Eren’s place a little after half eight. There’s always plenty of staff to work Saturdays so we usually get the evenings to ourselves. I bang too hard on the door and it makes the side of my hand throb. Connie gives me a wary side-glance. I’ve been in an irritable mood all day. At first I put it down to lack of sleep. Usually I’m out like a light, but I couldn’t settle last night, tossing and turning every five minutes in a futile search for a comfortable position. However, as the day drew on, I started to feel more and more ropey. Not hungover exactly (I didn’t drink _that_ much) but definitely a tad worse for wear. I blame mixing my drinks. Or maybe I need to remember that I’m twenty fucking four and can’t expect the luxury of hangover-free nights out anymore. The thought makes me scowl as I wait for someone to answer the door. It sounds like there’s already quite a few people inside, so I don’t know what’s taking so fucking long.

“S’up dickholes!” Eren yells swinging the door open.

“Hey man!” Connie lifts Eren off the floor with a hug that practically squeezes the life out of him.

“Alright cockgobbler?” I grumble.

“Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it Jean,” Eren wheezes, still held aloft by Connie. I respond with an eye-roll. “What the fuck happened to your face Con?”

“A demented elbow in a mosh pit is what happened!” Connie squeaks, putting Eren down as his weedy arms finally give up. The bruising is nowhere near as bad as I was expecting, just a bit of purple splodging under one eye. “We the last one’s here?” he asks.

He sounds completely nonchalant, but I know better. He’s trying to find out if Sasha’s here yet.

“Yeah, pretty much everyone’s here except you two. C’mon get yourselves a drink.”

Pretty much everyone. _Does that include Marco?_ I don’t see him as I enter the kitchen and sling my bag of beer on the counter. Armin, Historia and Mikasa are quick to greet us with enthusiastic ‘hi’s and hugs. I don’t know everyone I can see, but I recognise a couple of guys from Eren’s work chatting on breakfast stools. Oluo and Gunther I think they’re called. I crack open two bottles for me and Connie and head into the living room to see if Marco’s here. He isn’t, but Sasha is, chatting rather cosily on the sofa with a hunky blonde dude Eren works with. Already anticipating a bad reaction, I turn to push Connie back into the kitchen but he’s already seen. _Shit_. The cheeky smile and bright eyes snap into a furrowed brow and tight mouth. Sasha’s eyes lock onto us and she practically leaps across the sofa to get some distance between her and…I wanna say Eld? She gets to her feet and walks over, though she looks a bit unsteady, slightly tipsy already. Eld puffs out an exasperated breath and joins a serious looking girl on the adjacent sofa. I’ve met her once before. She's doing a PhD with Armin. I’m sure she's called Annie.

“Hey!” Sasha says with a too-big smile, her cheeks flushed, though I can’t tell if it’s embarrassment or alcohol related.

I sense Connie tensing up beside me. He forces out a quiet, “…Hey.”

 _Christ this is so fucking awkward._ “Hey…” _Say something._ “Err…” _Seriously, anything!_ “…You, err…you been here long?” _What the fuck kind of dumbass question is that!?_

“Err…yeah I guess. Mikasa and Armin picked me up and we were the first ones here. You guys been at work?”

Connie says nothing. He doesn’t even look at us. Just sips his beer and scowls. Sasha and I waffle on about nothing in particular for a few more minutes before she speaks directly to him, trying (and failing) to drag him into the conversation.

“You okay Connie? Your face looks a little bruised. What happened?”

“ ’M fine. Mosh pit. I’m going to get another drink.” He stomps back into the kitchen. I don’t try to stop him. The others can deal with his shitty mood for a bit. God knows I’ll be bearing the brunt of it at home later. I tentatively turn back to Sasha, who let’s out a long breath.

“Well that went well,” she deadpans. I can’t help the little snort that escapes me.

“Listen don’t worry about it. His dad’s been a bit ill and he’s had to work extra shifts so he's not been himself this week,” I half-lie. _Christ, she’s barely been back five minutes and you’re already slipping into your old role of mediator between these two!_ “What’s new with you anyway? You and the girls make in home in one piece the other night?” I tease.

“Oi!” she reprimands, punching me in the arm and by miracle of miracles, I manage to lighten the mood. We grab the now vacant sofa and laugh about everything that happened the other night at the bar. It’s funny how easily we fall back into the rhythm of our friendship, as though she’s never been away. Historia joins us with three amazing looking cocktails she’s whipped up for us.

“Oh my god, you absolute goddess,” I gush grabbing one from her. My irritable mood dissipates a little more with each delicious sip. I should be cautious about drinking given how shitty I’ve felt all day, but my devilish side tells me that the solution is more alcohol. Hair of the dog and all that. _Fuck it. Let’s get fucking fucked!_

We’re just getting up to get more drinks when Eren comes bounding into the room. “Beer pong bitches! Get your asses in the kitchen!” The fucker’s so excited he throws poor Historia over his shoulder with one arm and drags Sasha by the other.

“Waaaah! Eren!” Historia wails, but she’s laughing her head off all the way to the kitchen, even more so when Sasha smacks her playfully on the butt. Mikasa and a tall, freckled girl I don’t know are just finishing setting up some cups on the central counter when we walk in, a measure of cheap beer in each one. Eren instructs us to split into three teams. I groan inwardly when Sasha ends up on a team with Historia, Gunther and Eld. I don’t even need to look at Connie, I can feel the daggers he’s throwing both of them. Mikasa and the freckled girl (who it turns out is Mikasa’s friend, Ymir, from work) team up with me, Armin and Connie, leaving Annie with Eren and his other work mates. Sasha’s team beat Eren’s in the first round so then it’s our team vs Eren’s. Annie’s amazing but the rest of them keep throwing too hard. It doesn’t take us long to claim victory, knocking them out of the game entirely. The final round will be our team vs Sasha’s, though everyone’s had their fair share of shitty beer by now. This should be interesting!

“Shit!!” I miss my first shot against Historia, who takes great delight landing hers straight after.

I knock back the beer with a grimace. “That’s right take your medicine bitch!” she shouts, dancing on the spot and pointing at me.

“Oh it is fucking ON now,” I retort, my fiercely competitive streak running riot.

Historia, along with the rest of her team mates soon start to look worried though. Mikasa and Ymir are fucking bad-asses, landing their shots with deadly accuracy, even after drinking two cups apiece from the last round. I’m so fucking glad they’re on my team! Although it doesn’t save me from having to knock back two more cups of beer, each of my competitors hitting (in my opinion) extremely lucky shots. I loudly blame Historia’s cocktail for my shitty performance, swearing blind that she’s drugged me.

“You fucking wish Kirschtein!” she retorts.

Sasha’s tipsy demeanour, on the other hand, only seems to improve her game. She even manages to bounce the ball off FOUR fucking rims before landing it smack in the middle cup. Her team mates practically piss themselves with excitement, grabbing and hugging her. I just shout and scream curses. _Shit no! We need to win!_ Eventually we’re a cup a piece. It all comes down to the skill of the next two players…and it’s Connie vs Eld.

Eld’s up first. _Destroy this motherfucker Connie._ We all stare him down as he arrogantly cricks his neck and stretches his shoulders. _C’mon Con. Wipe that stupid smirk off his fucking face._ He rolls the ball between his fingers, closes his fist and kisses it for good luck. _Miss miss fucking miss!_ Stooping slightly, any bravado vanishes from his face, replaced with intense concentration as he lines up the shot. He’s taking this as seriously as I am. With a flick of his wrist he releases the ball, opting for a bounce shot instead of aiming straight at the target. He goes too hard and it bounces high in the air. Everyone collectively draws in a sharp breath, holding it while we wait to see where it will land. It drops, bounces off one rim, then another, before bouncing off the table together.

“YES! FUCKING YES!” I scream.

Eld has his head in his hands as his team mates groan and curse. It all comes down to Connie now.

We all start with words of encouragement and prayers to the beer pong gods. “C’mon Con!” I bark, massaging his shoulders. They’re taut beneath my fingers and I know he means business. He’s not looking at Eld, instead staring intently at the lone cup before him. I half expect it spontaneously combust the way he’s glaring at it. Without breaking focus, he holds his hand out to the side, squeezing the ball when Armin obligingly drops it into his palm.

He hunches down, then changes his mind and stands tall. His hand lunges forward a few times without relinquishing the ball. One…two…release! It soars across the table and lands with an elegant ‘plop’ in the centre of the cup. There’s a brief moment of silence before we erupt into hysterical screams, no-one quite believing it. Ymir sinks to her knees with a cry of affirmation, Armin and Mikasa grab each other screaming in triumph and I wrap my arms around Connie’s middle, hoisting him up and screeching along with my team mates.

“YES CON! YOU BEAUTIFUL MOTHER FUCKER YES!!” I’m so happy I could cry.

Eren bounds over to join in the love too. Then we all childishly turn to the defeated team and heckle them rotten. We’re so loud that I almost miss the doorbell ringing.

“Was that the door?” asks Eren.

“I’ll get it!” Armin shouts chirpily, letting go of Mikasa. I chuckle to myself as I watch them skip merrily down the hallway. Armin always gets giddy when they’ve had a drink.

I turn back to Connie, my face sore from yelling and grinning. I expect to find him beaming at me, but he’s narrowing his eyes again as he watches Sasha give Eld a conciliatory hug. _Well his good mood lasted for all of five seconds._ I open two more of our beers and shove the bottle in his hand to distract him, clinking mine against his. “My fucking hero,” I say with a stupid smile on my face. He begrudgingly returns it.

I’m just wondering who’s at the door, but then I hear him and I know instantly. How can it be that I recognise Marco by voice alone when we’ve barely known each other a week? The thought doesn’t sit comfortably with me. I don’t want to dwell on the reason why. Then I remember who he’s bringing along and my soaring high from beer pong comes plummeting back down to Earth.

“You’ve just missed out on beer pong! Can I get you guys a drink?” Armin asks walking into the kitchen with Marco close behind.

“Yeah a beer please,” Marco replies. Another guy follows him into the room. _So this is Marco’s boyfriend_. He’s shorter than Marco (probably about my height), though his weird hairdo adds a couple of extra inches. It’s a reddish-brown. Short, but a bit longer on the top and flicking in all sorts of crazy directions. I didn’t realise ‘poorly constructed bird’s nest’ was a trend right now. _Alright curb it with the bitchiness Kirschtein you don’t even know the guy._ “What do you want Floch?” Floch! What kind of dumbass name is that? _Said the boy with the French name who can’t speak a fucking word of it (Fair point)._ He glances in my direction but pays me no attention, unlike Marco who comes bounding over straight away like an excitable Labrador. “Hey!” He’s so fucking cute. _Sorry, what?_

I mistakenly open my arms for a hug but he stops short and I cover by setting my drink down on the counter. _For fuck’s sake. Why are you such a dweeb?_ “Hey, you alright?”

“Yeah good thanks. Oh this is my friend Floch.” _Friend? Not so official then._ “Floch this is Jean, one of the guys from the band I told you about.”

Knowing that Marco thinks enough of me to tell his boyfriend, makes me way happier than it should do. Floch offers me a hand. “Nice to meet you John.”

_Mother. Fucker._

“It’s JEAN,” I correct through gritted teeth, squeezing his hand. Floch’s eyes flash almost imperceptibly. Marco’s dart nervously between the two of us. I decide to play nicely for his sake. “Nice to meet you too. D’you guys need a drink?”

“Oh I think Armin’s just-”

“Armin certainly is! Here you go!” As if on cue, Armin’s face pops between the two them, a beer in each hand.

“Thanks,” Marco says politely, while Floch just takes his and starts swigging. He could just be nervous but it seems kind of rude.

“You guys had a good night?” asks Armin, moving to the other side of Marco.

Marco talks animatedly about their date night, which consisted of a restaurant serving _‘the best Thai food I’ve ever had’_ and a trashy horror movie.

“You should’ve heard this guy scream,” Floch laughs. “It’s a good job I was there to hold his hand.” _Definitely not just friends then._

“Hey, you jumped just as much as I did!” Marco laughs, giving him a playful shove. His hand lingers on his arm just a fraction longer than necessary, long fingers trailing lightly down Floch’s sleeve before settling back at his side again.

“S’cuse me,” I mutter brushing past Armin to get another drink. I notice them give me a quizzical look out the corner of my eye _(nothing gets passed you Armin)_ but purposely keep my head down, not wanting to invite a conversation about it. Beer isn’t cutting it anymore. I need something stronger. My hand lands on a near-full bottle of Sailor Jerry’s. Yep. That’ll do _._ I grip the neck and drag it towards me. I can hear Connie behind me saying hi to Marco and introducing him to Mikasa and Historia. I mix myself a drink - half coke, half rum – and take a sip. It burns the shit out of my throat but it’s a welcome distraction from the clenching in my chest.

“Hey,” says a gentle voice. I turn to face Armin. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Fine. You okay?” I say to deflect further questioning.

“You sure?” _Shit._

“Yeah totally fine,” I reply with what I hope is a believable smile and then quickly cover it by taking a sip of my drink.

We both turn and slouch against the kitchen bench, facing the others. “Marco’s friend seems nice.”

“Boyfriend,” I say too sharply.

“Oh. I thought so but I wasn’t sure.” _Liar. You of all people would’ve picked up on that in two seconds flat._

“Yeah…” Sasha’s introducing herself now. The corners of Marco’s eyes crease with laughter when she enthusiastically asks him if he’s Italian.

“Sort of actually. My grandmother was from Italy,” he replies.

“What really?” Floch cuts in. “Well that explains the amazing rigatoni you made the other night.”

“Yeah it’s a Bodt family recipe.”

“Jeez Italian blood _and_ he can cook. Why haven’t you introduced us sooner Connie?” Historia jibes playfully.

Everyone chuckles, but the way Floch snakes his arm around Marco’s waist doesn’t go unnoticed. Not by me at least. “You want another drink?” I say to Armin, mainly so I have an excuse to turn around and keep my hands busy.

“Oh. No thanks. I think I need to pace myself a bit after beer po-”

“Naaah c’mon, have a Sailor Jerry’s with me. It’s really fucking good.” _Please. Any excuse not to turn back round._

“Alright,” they relent. “Just don’t make it very strong…I said not strong!”

“It’s not strong! That’s a normal measurement! I do work in a bar y’know,” I say, adding the coke and nudging Armin cheekily in the shoulder.

“You’ll put Springer’s out of business if you keep giving out measurements like that!” they smirk, shoving me back with their hip.

We fall into our own little conversation away from the others and have a proper catch up on everything – their PhD, my upcoming training, how Armin’s Grandpa is doing, my mam, Connie, Mikasa, anything and everything. It’s nice. I don’t get to talk much with just Armin anymore. Not like we used to anyway. And having their cute face to focus on helps me forget the others are even there – “Oh god don’t ask this guy!” – until Floch’s obnoxious voice diverts my attention. “He works with toddlers for a living. I’m surprised he can even form full sentences!”

It’s a joke. It’s obviously a joke and everyone laughs, Marco included. But, when I notice him scratch the back of his neck, my blood boils. I know Marco can be sensitive about his job. He worries about people’s reactions and being judged for it. I’ve only known Marco six days and I know that already, so why the fuck doesn’t his boyfriend? He’s just using Marco’s job for a cheap laugh and putting him down in the process. And in front of his fucking friends no less. Unspoken rage prickles beneath my skin and I bite my lip. Floch smiles, apparently pleased with his little joke. _I will come over there and wipe that fucking grin off your stupid fucking face you dick_. I might be over-reacting and reading way too much into it but I can’t help it.

“Wanna go sit down?” Armin asks eyeing me warily.

“Sure.” I down the rest of my drink and quickly make another one. Armin’s face twists when I make it half and half again, but they know better than to say anything. I follow them towards the living room door and I may or may not accidentally stumble into Floch on my way.

“Oops! Sorry mate,” I cover, patting him on the back (though smacking might be a more accurate description).

“S’alright bro no problem.”

_I’m not your bro, you stupid ugly birdsnestofahairdoslymotherfucker!!_

Look, I know. I know I’m being childish but I’m too tipsy to care at this point and I decide to let my mind indulge in its unfounded hostility. Plus, convincing myself Floch is an arsehole is preferable to acknowledging what’s actually bothering me right now. I stubbornly push _that_ thought away and look for another distraction.

I find it when I enter the living room, though it’s certainly not one I was expecting.

“What is this, a fucking hairdressers!?”

Eren and Historia are sat on the floor in front of the sofa with Mikasa and Ymir behind them, braiding their hair.

“You’re just jealous because your hair is nowhere near as fabulous as ours,” Historia replies smugly, sticking her tongue out at me. I’m still tense from the conversation in the kitchen, but I can’t help softening a little at that. I give her a lop-sided grin before drawing in a long, steadying breath and let it out slowly as I settle into the chair opposite them with Armin. Watching them, I feel better already. The warm feeling I had earlier returns and dampens my anger.

I love that we still do childish shit like this. We’re all technically ‘adults’ now, with rent to pay and jobs to go to but we’re still just kids deep down. I know I am anyway. Fuck living up to my parent’s standards of married by 21, kids by 25 and happily ever fucking after. Didn’t work out so well for them did it? These people right here are all the commitment I need in my life. These ridiculous, infuriating, fierce, incredible, beautiful people. _Jesus, you get so sentimental when you’re drunk._

“Make my braid like Armin’s Mikasa! I need a twinsies selfie with them!” Eren says.

“Fuck me,” I snort. “How much have you had Jaeger?”

He replies with a giddy laugh. _I’ll take that to mean ‘a lot’ then!_

“Ymir make mine like that too! Then we can have a triplet selfie! Eren can be the brown filling in our blonde sandwich.”

“Ooooh! Like Nutella!” Eren says seriously, like he’s just said something incredibly profound.

“Errrr,” Ymir starts, glancing between Mikasa’s progress and the back of Historia’s head. “Okay...sure.”

I zone out as I watch Mikasa’s quick fingers at work. I love having my hair played with. _Why isn’t mine long enough to braid!_ I pout.

“Okay done.” The words have barely left Mikasa’s mouth when Armin dives onto the floor for the aforementioned ‘twinsies selfie’.

“You guys are ridiculous,” I laugh, watching the ludicrous faces they pull.

“Ridiculously adorable?” Armin grins.

“You wish.”

Eren takes no notice, already busy uploading the picture to Instagram. “Aaaaaaaaand…hashtag gay nerds!” Eren cries, flipping his phone round to show Armin. I splutter mid-sip. Mikasa and Historia both crack up at the combo of Eren’s comment and me making a dick of myself.

“C’mon Ymir,” Historia giggles. “Get a move on! I wanna be a gay nerd too!”

“Okay okay just, err…gimme a second.” Her face is frowning in concentration. I’m not sure what the hell Ymir’s been doing this whole time, but Historia’s hair looks nothing like Eren’s.

I think Historia senses she’s been lumbered with the dud hairdresser. “Ymir, I know we’ve just met so don’t take this the wrong way…but do you have any fucking idea what you’re doing?”

Mikasa snickers as her and Ymir exchange complicit glances. “Sorry sweetheart. I just wanted an excuse to get you between my legs.”

Historia’s jaw practically hits the floor and I lose it. Eren and Armin screech out a long ‘Haaaah!’ pointing at Historia’s stunned expression. Once I’ve caught my breath back, I lean forward to hi-five Ymir, tears starting to stream down my face. Where has this girl been all my life? Even Historia has to start laughing, though she can’t quite erase the shock from her face. “Sorry,” she eventually responds. “but you need to be a bit better with your hands to get me between your legs.” Jesus Christ, this just keeps getting better. Ymir isn’t fazed in the slightest, giving Historia a wink and a sly grin. “Move over Jaeger,” Historia says as she plants herself in front of Mikasa.

“What the hell are you idiots screaming about?” Sasha chirps bounding into the living room with Marco in tow. She’s dragging the poor guy along by the hand like she’s known him all her life. He’s smiling but he also looks vaguely terrified, eyes-wide as he staggers to keep up with Sasha. I expect Floch to follow close behind but he doesn’t materialise. Sasha gasps dramatically when she see’s Armin, Eren and Historia’s hair. “Oh my god I love it! Me next Mikasa me next!” She let’s go of Marco and squishes herself next to Historia. He looks at Eren and Armin, who are busy messing around with Snapchat filters, and then his eyes settle on me. I fidget a little in my seat to compensate for the somersaults in my stomach. He smiles broadly as he walks over to me and perches on the arm of the chair I’m sitting in.

“Alright?” he asks casually.

Our height difference brings my eyes directly level with his bicep and I’m so close to him, I can see a cluster of five freckles nestled on the inside of his arm.

“Here mate!” I jump up far too quickly, so quick he visibly flinches. “Sit yourself down,” I say gesturing to the chair.

“What? No no! I’m fine hones-”

“Nah c’mon you’re making me feel like a midget,” I cut him off, already using my hip to push him off the arm of the chair.

“Alright,” he chuckles, settling into the now vacant space. Okay this is better. I don’t feel so claustrophobic now.

“Where’s Floch? Have we scared him off already?” _Please say yes._

“Ha, no he’s just outside on the phone.”

“Oh.” _Bit late to be getting a phone call_. “So, did you and the ‘touchy feelies’ get home okay last night?”

“Yeah but we got so lost because of my directions! I don’t drive so I only really know the bus route home and…”

I swear I am listening to begin with, but the rum really starts to kick in and my focus becomes hazy as I look down at him. I remember noticing how long his eyelashes were last night and my eyes are drawn to them again. They flick around animatedly as he tells his story, framing the deep sparkle of his warm eyes perfectly. I zone back in when I’m needed. He asks if I know the canal. I hum in acknowledgement and he continues. One hand moves around as he mimes Bert’s sister trying to do a ‘million-point turn’ in a tiny alley way, but it’s his other hand that really distracts me. The one he’s left on his drink, playing with it absentmindedly, long fingers gently stroking up and down the glass.

“So yeah, I don’t think she’ll be offering me a lift again anytime soon. How ‘bout you and Connie? I noticed his bruise isn’t too bad.”

 _Crap. Time to stop day dreaming._ “Y-yeah fine thanks. We just jumped in a taxi. Thanks again for letting me tag along by the way. I had a really good night.”

“Yeah of course!” He smiles so wide his eyes crinkle. Another somersault flutters up to my sternum. “Like I said, I don’t know how I would’ve coped on my own with those two so I’m really glad you were there.”

He smiles softly and takes a sip of his drink. His tongue darts out over his bottom lip to catch a stray droplet and my gaze stops dead. It’s slightly bigger than the top lip, curvier too. The skin looks so soft but firm at the same time, like it would push back fervently if I-

“Hey!” My eyes snap up and see Floch, hopping onto the opposite arm of the chair. He drapes one of his legs over Marco’s knee as he hands him a fresh drink. My warm, fuzzy feeling evaporates.

“Oh thanks!” Marco replies happily. His eyes crinkle again as he smiles at his boyfriend and I have to look away. The room quietens as the ‘braidy bunch’ stagger into the kitchen to top up their drinks. “Oh Jean I meant to ask. Will you guys be free on Tuesday? I really want to get an extra practise in before the gig.”

“Well Connie and I usually work on Tuesday nights but I think his dad is giving him the night off to make up for the extra shifts this week. Eren is usually free on a Tuesday too. You’ll just have to manage without me I’m afraid.”

“When’s your first gig again?” asks Floch.

“Friday,” Marco says anxiously.

“That soon? You sure you’ll be ready?”

Wow. Way to be fucking supportive arse face! _Careful Kirschtein. Reign it in._ I’m about to snap ‘of course he’ll be fucking ready!’ but think better of it and decide it’s safer to address Marco directly.

“You’ll be fine Marco. You did great on Thursday and you’ve got two practises between now and Friday. Don’t worry about it.”

“Yeah. I’m sure you’ll do great,” Floch states, his voice slightly firmer. There’s tension in the air now that I pray Marco doesn’t notice. “Where you guys playing again?”

Marco starts explaining where Springer’s is (as best as he can) but is quickly interrupted by thundering footsteps and a face that looks capable of murder.

“Jean Kirschtein!” Sasha storms towards me and lifts a bottle of Sailor Jerry’s up to my face. _Shit._ “Did you drink half of this?”

“Maybe…?” I say, giving her my best ‘adorable scamp’ face but anticipating a violent reaction.

“Want some more?” she barks, her face still livid.

Needless to say, I am confused. “Erm…sure?” I stammer, scared she’s about to crack the bottle over my head.

“Right then!” she grabs me by the wrist and drags me over to the sofa. Only then do I notice the two shot glasses in her other hand. She slams them down on the coffee table and wrenches the top off the bottle like she’s trying to strangle it. Her face is still burning with anger, so much so that the shots she pours slosh all over the table. I just sit there, stunned, watching the whole performance and wondering where the hell this is going. She hands me a shot, clinks the glass too hard and yells, “Fucking cheers!” before throwing it down her neck. I tentatively do the same with mine and then wait to see what the hell’s going to happen next. “I have a question for you Jean Kirschtein!” she says grabbing the bottle as she starts the ritual again. “Why, pray tell me, does your gender feel the need to play silly childish games instead of just acting like a fucking adult?”

Marco and Floch take that as their cue to slip out of the room. I stare at her agog, “I…I’m sorry?”

“Yeah! So you fucking should be! Cheers!” she knocks back a second shot. “Like if you have something to say, just fucking say it you know? You’ve got a mouth. You’ve _supposedly_ got a brain. So how about you try putting those two things together and fucking talk to me instead of all this bullshit!?” And with that, she slumps back onto the sofa with a loud huff.

Okay. She’s clearly not talking about me. _Connie, what the shit have you done now?_ “Okay, first of all,” I say, taking one of her hands in mine. “On behalf of my gender, I apologise. We are fucking idiots. Secondly, because we are fucking idiots, talking is not our forte. We are much better at acting crazy in the hopes that amazing women like you will be able to see through our bullshit and figure out what we really mean.” She starts rubbing the back of my hand with her thumb. “And third of all,” I lower my voice to make sure only she can hear, “whatever Connie’s done to make you this angry, I’d bet my life he feels a million times worse than you do right now knowing he’s upset you.” It all comes out kind of slurred and I really hope that doesn’t make it seem less sincere.

“Why are we still like this Jean?” she says softly, still stroking my hand. “Me and Con. We’re not kids anymore so why are we still acting like it? I thought we would’ve grown up a bit by now. I thought things would be different when I came back, that we could be different, but nothings changed. Why can’t we just be adults about this?”

“Sasha, we’re at a house party, you’ve got your hair braided to match your friends and we’re both smashed on Sailor Jerry’s. What the hell gave you the idea that we could be adults?” I smile.

“Shut up Jean you know what I mean!” she laughs, leaning forward to slap my arm. “Ugh, actually I don’t even know what I mean anymore. You know what I mean?”

“W-what?” I laugh. Then she laughs too and before long we’ve both totally cracked up into drunken giggles, clutching our bellies and rolling around on the sofa like idiots.

“I’ve missed you Jean!” she wheezes in between gasping breaths and the odd giggly aftershock.

“I’ve missed you too.”

And I really have, though I don’t realise just how much until now. I know I’m drunk, but I really do love Sasha. Yes, with her there’s always ‘Connie drama’, but she really knows how to make me laugh and she has a big heart.

We’re not the only ones giggling, I notice. Mikasa and Historia have just came scurrying in with matching mischievous smiles. They head straight to the TV, skidding down onto their knees and fiddling about with something I can’t see. Sasha and I exchange confused looks. “What the hell are you two doing?” she asks. Historia throws her a devilish grin and grabs the TV remote. When she switches it on I groan dramatically. Sasha on the other hand is so excited she leaps up and starts jumping up and down on the sofa. “Oh my god are you freakin’ serious!? I haven’t played Just Dance in ages!”

“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, already anticipating how bad these dance moves are going to be.

“C’mon Jean dance with me!” Sasha yells tugging at my arm. I remain firmly planted on the sofa.

“Neeeeewwwwp!”

“Aw please!”

“I would but I’m afraid my moves are so sweet I’ll just make you look bad Sash!”

“Oh whatever Kirschtein!” she huffs throwing my arm back at me.

A few more people, no doubt wondering what the hell is drowning out Eren’s Spotify playlist, stick their heads round the door to see what the fuss is and pile into the room. Armin bounds over to join Sasha in selecting the first track. Ymir and Eld fill a couple of empty seats and sit back like they’re waiting for a show to begin. _Christ, do they want friggin' popcorn too?_

“Fuck yess!!” Eren screams with his arms in the air when he enters the room and realises what’s going on. I can’t help but snicker. _This guy’s fucking wasted_. Marco soon returns with that big smile of his, followed by Floch and Connie, who appear to be having a rather animated discussion about something. Whatever. At least talking to Floch will keep him out of Sasha's way before he does any more damage. They head over to join me on the sofa. Marco, I’m glad to say, opts to sit right next to me and Floch is delegated to the opposite end next to Connie.

"What the hell are those two arguing about?" I ask.

"Oh, they're debating who’d be in their ultimate band. You just missed a pretty heated discussion on who was a better front man out of Freddie Mercury and Robert Plant."

"Are you actually serious!?" Connie suddenly cries, laughing exasperatedly. Marco and I just look at him, waiting for an explanation. "This guy would rather have Phil Collins on drums than Jon Bonham!" he says in disbelief, thumbing in Floch's direction.

"What!? Mate are you retarded?" It comes out sharper than I had intended, so I cover it with a laugh. _Seriously though is this kid actually retarded??_

"Phil Collins is really underrated as a drummer!" argues Floch.

Connie now has his head in his hands. "You cannot sit there and tell me Phil Collins is a better drummer than Jon Bonham. You just can't!"

"Oh everybody says Jon Bonham is the best drummer," Floch says rolling his eyes.

"Because he is!" Connie and I both say in unison. This fucking guy. It's like he's just going out of his way to be different to appear more interesting.

"I'm telling you, Phil Collins is underappreciated. The guy's got skills."

"If that were true," I argue, "the Tarzan soundtrack would've been a hell of a lot more interesting!"

"Hey don't be knocking Tarzan!" Marco jibes, playfully elbowing me in the side. Connie doesn’t even react to my comment, continuing to argue with Floch about the (non-existent) merits of Genesis. Then in a quiet voice Marco adds, "He was my first boy crush."

I splutter and snort so loud and so unattractively that the people squished on the adjacent sofa cock their heads at me. Marco starts giggling at my reaction. I think he might finally be drunk. Connie pays no attention, passionately discussing guitar players now, but Floch is only half listening, narrowing his eyes at my and Marco's little exchange. It shouldn't make me happy but it does.

I excuse myself to go for a piss and make myself another drink. After two rather sizable measures of Sailor Jerry’s I decide to be sensible (I must be getting old) and pour myself a small amount of the Jack Daniels I brought.

“Hey,” a gentle voice says behind me. Marco. I feel heat rising up the back of my neck.

“H-Hey!” I stutter. “D’you want some Jack Daniels?”

“Oh, yeah thanks! I said I’d get a drink for Floch. Is it okay if I make two?”

 _I wonder whether I can spit in Floch’s without Marco noticing?_ “Yeah ‘course.”

“Thanks. I’ve left those two arguing about bass players now. I couldn’t get a word in edgeways.”

“What, they had an amazing bass player sat next to them and neither of them thought to ask your opinion?”

He smiles sweetly at the compliment and looks away. “Yeah well, they’re pretty engrossed in their Lemmy vs Peter Hook conversation.”

“So whose side are you on then? Lemmy or Hook?”

“Neither. Flea all the way. He’s the whole reason I switched from guitar to bass.”

“I fucking love Flea. Good choice. Alright then, what about the rest of your band? Who would you have on drums?”

“Dave Grohl.”

“Interesting. Front man?”

“Billy Corgan.”

“Ooooh not Cobain?”

“I mean if I could have two he’d definitely be the other one but Smashing Pumpkins are my favourite band so I gotta go with Corgan.”

“Fair enough. And guitarist?”

“George Harrison.”

“Oh!”

“What?” he smiles, curious at my reaction.

“I mean, I'm completely on board with George Harrison. I just assumed you’d have someone from the 90s like the rest of your band.”

“I do love the 90s. Like, I know I was born then, but if I could go back in time that’s definitely where I’d go. Seattle grunge scene, classic Lollapalooza, BritPop. All that.”

Part of me is kind of mad at Marco. He could’ve told me he was really into Van Halen and Journey, but no. He had to tell me about his amazing taste in music and love for 90s alternative bands. Like I needed another reason to like him.

“How ‘bout you? Where would you travel back to?” he asks.

“Hmm. I don’t think I could choose one decade. I’d probably want to see a bit of everything from each one. Although my favourite bands are Deftones, Nirvana and Pumpkins so maybe I would join you in the 90s.”

“Oh! Cool. Well, if I ever invent time travel it’s a date,” he says grabbing his drinks. I hang back a step so he doesn’t see me blush.

We head back into the living room to resume watching our friends make dickheads of themselves. I have to say, watching Eren and Armin (with matching braids no less) dance in unison to Nicki Minaj’s Starships might be the campest thing I’ve ever seen, though Ymir and Historia doing the YMCA give them a run for their money.

Nearly everyone gets dragged up by Sasha, Mikasa or Historia at some point. Even I give into Sasha’s pleas eventually. Though in my opinion, we fucking NAIL the routine for Timber, even if I do collapse in a fit of giggles when she jumps on my back.

After a while, everyone is worn out and slumped around the living room. But when Eren bursts in holding two acoustic guitars, a new wave of energy seems to ripple through us all. He thrusts one into my hand and we perch ourselves on two stools, dragged in from the kitchen, at the front of the room. After a bit of tuning, he grins at me. “Blister?” is all he says, and I smile back nodding. If I had to choose a song that was ‘our song' it would definitely be Blister in the Sun. It was the first song we bonded over back when we were learning how to be each other's friend. Connie had recently passed his test and we were out for a drive when it came on the radio. It turned out Eren loved it as much as I did. Whenever I hear it now, I picture both of us in Connie’s back seat, loudly singing our hearts out and finger drumming.

I count us in and we start playing. Most people quickly pick up on the song and join in with the chorus, while Connie enthusiastically bangs out the beat on the coffee table. I have to laugh at how drunk Eren is, hitting the odd bum note and adding in over the top flourishes to certain chords. It’s imperfectly brilliant in an odd sort of way, like watching At the Drive in live or something.

Fleetwood Mac gets a suitably drunken sing-a-long next, before we play some classic Kinks and Last night by The Strokes. I’m in the mood for something heavier and suggest Celebrity Skin, which I follow with Nirvana’s Sliver. Eren and I sing/scream a bit too enthusiastically and my throat is ragged by the end of it. I decide we all need something more laid-back now, if for no other reason than to give my voice a rest. Although it does have a certain sexy roughness to it now if I do say so myself!

I glance around the room as I grab a quick swig of my JD & coke and my eyes fall on Marco, chatting to Mikasa and Historia. He laughs at something Historia says and the way his eyes squint as he rocks back in his seat is so genuine and carefree. I know what I want to play next. I start tapping out a beat on the body of the guitar. The chatter around me grows a little quieter and I start strumming the opening bars of 1979. I watch as Marco stops to look up, instantly recognising that I’m playing the Pumpkins. My face splits into a goofy grin but I don’t care. I don’t care if he knows it’s for him. I want him to know. Eren and Connie join in, giving the song more presence, and I swear it’s as though an invisible blanket of calm settles over us all. Everyone singing along quietly with serene expressions and smiling gently.

Floch comes back in and sits on the arm of the sofa next to Marco, who’s so lost in the song (I’m happy to say), he jumps a little when Floch brushes against him. My eyes are drawn to them again when I notice Floch’s arm snaking around Marco’s shoulders and I know I should look away but I don’t, too eager to see how Marco reacts. I really wish I had. Just as Marco looks up to give Floch a smile, Floch tugs him forward by his shirt and ducks his head down for a kiss. Marco’s eyes go wide at first, clearly caught off-guard, but then he just melts into it, his eyes fluttering closed while his hand comes up to rest on his boyfriend’s waist.

It’s like a stinging slap in the face and the shock of it makes my hands stutter on the fret board for a moment. I stare straight down and try to concentrate on what note comes next but honestly, I want nothing more than for this fucking song to be over. It's ruined now. I just wanted this song to remind Marco of…well, it doesn’t fucking matter anymore because now all he’ll think of is the time Floch kissed him so sweetly it made his head spin.

I speed up towards the end of the song and finish with a loud strum. Thank fuck it's over. I curse my eyes for flitting up again, knowing fine well I’m going to see something I don’t want to. Their lips are no longer locked together but the way they’re both gazing at each other is somehow worse and I wonder how my neck and ears can burn so intensely when icy shards are settling in my stomach.

“Here Con you take over for a bit,” I say thrusting the guitar in Connie’s direction, purposely not making eye contact. Connie might be a few fries short of a Happy Meal but he always knows when somethings up and I don’t want to get into things with him that I haven’t even processed myself yet. I sway a little on my feet as I head to the kitchen, but I feel stone cold sober. My buzz is gone, and I desperately need to sink into oblivion.

Annie and Armin are chatting at one side of the kitchen when I enter. I give them a polite smile and am so grateful when they carry on their conversation instead of engaging me in a new one. Grabbing a tumbler, I pour myself some Jack Daniels. No longer seeing the point of mixers I take a straight sip and try to concentrate on the sharp burn it creates at the back of my throat.

My forehead starts pulsing and I take some deep breaths to prevent it becoming an all out throb, but the sharp fluorescent lights in here are doing me no favours. Connie and Eren have stopped playing and the sound of chatter in the next room grows louder. A bass line starts thumping as the music is turned back up again. The vibration of it makes my skin crawl and my head’s getting worse. I take another sip but it does nothing. The sound of laughter wafting in from the living sounds more like screeching and my head hammers with the sharpness of it. I need a moment alone. I gulp down the remainder of my drink. Staggering out the kitchen, I head straight for the end of the hallway and open the door to Marlowe’s room, which I suppose is now the spare room.

I flick the light on and wince at how bright it is. There’s no lampshade, just a lone bulb casting a hideous white glare onto everything. I fumble about with a bedside lamp and smack the light back off as quick as I can. It’s a bit weird seeing the bed made up but then I figure Eren must’ve done it in case anyone wants to crash. I could simply sit on said bed (like a normal person) but I don’t, opting to sit on the floor and wedge myself between the side of the bed and the radiator. Well, I say wedge, there’s just enough room to stretch my legs out. I quickly retract them, however, and bring my knees up to my chest. I find it helps my breathing and my head isn’t pounding anymore, although now it’s swimming. Shit. I am really fucking drunk.

Part of me wants to just sit here and think about absolutely nothing, but Marco and Floch keep flashing in front of my eyes and I know it’s no use. I need to be honest with myself. Almost hugging Marco, my disproportionate and fervent hatred of Floch, purposely playing the Pumpkins, my reaction to that kiss. _No denying it son, you have a major case of the hots for Marco_. I take a deep steadying breath and let it out slowly.

 _Okay. It's okay. You’ve had crushes before and they never last long. You just need to ride this one out like all the others. A few weeks of subtle eye-banging and extra masturbation to get it out of your system and you'll be fine_. It’s true, the only people I’ve ever fell hard for were Mikasa and Hitch. Everyone else has been a mere flash in the pan. Even my infatuation with Armin lasted less than a month. Granted, the fact that Marco has an absolute bell-end of a boyfriend is gonna make this harder but I'll get through it. Yep. Wait it out. Good plan. And in the meantime…

“Ugh…” I groan, resting my head on my knees. “I am so fucked.”

The door creaks open behind me and I hear soft footsteps padding across the floor. I don’t need to turn my head, I already know who it is.

“Hey Armin.”

“Hey! What you hiding in here for?” they ask slumping down onto the floor next to me.

“Just had a bit of a headache is all. It’s getting better though.”

“Nawww,” they coo. A hand wraps gently around my shoulders before coaxing my head down to rest on their shoulder. I hum contentedly as they start playing with my hair and let my eyes drift closed.

“Hmm. Thanks Armin.”

“No problem. You sure it’s just your headache bothering you?”

 _You already know the answer to that._ No point insulting them by lying. Armin can always see through it anyway. “Yeah I’m okay. Just…Do you ever, like…worry about being alone?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like…that you’ll never find someone and even if you did it would eventually turn to shit anyway. That were all destined to be lonely.” Jesus I am definitely shitfaced.

“Hmm. Yeah. A lot actually.”

“Really?” I say, looking up at them as best I can without moving my head. They continue stroking my hair, their cheek resting on the side of my head.

“Yeah of course. I think everyone does you know? It’s scary not knowing what your life is going to turn out like and who you’ll have to share it with. But..” They lift their head and look down at me, “just because it doesn’t work out for some people Jean, doesn’t mean you’re destined to repeat their mistakes.”

They always get straight to the heart of the problem. My parents never found lasting happiness. Maybe I never will either. I sit up now and look at them earnestly. Their hand falls from my hair but stays on my shoulder. “So what do you do in the meantime? Like, how do you not worry about it?” It’s unfair of me to ask, to expect them to have all the answers, but Armin’s always been so wise, like my own little personal Buddha.

They sigh and gaze wistfully at nothing in particular, thinking about what they want to say. “There’s no easy answer Jean. I think you just have to put yourself in the hands of the universe and see where it takes you. It probably sounds cliché to say ‘stay positive’ but if you go through life assuming you’ll never find someone then you probably won’t. I just try to be open to the idea without fixating on it. Live in the moment, you know?”

How do they always do this? Even when they’re telling me things that I kind of know already, they still manage to make me feel a million times better. I smile softly, “Yeah I guess you’re right.”

“Don’t worry about things you don’t already know. You can’t predict the future so don’t try. And anyway, you’ll never be alone with us bunch of misfits around to drive you crazy,” they laugh. “And you’ll always have me whether you like it or not.”

“Yeah, right back at you.” I don’t realise just how far I’ve leaned in towards them until my eyes lock onto the starburst pattern of their pale blue irises. I know I should stop, but I keep falling forward. Armin does the same, and the way their eyes flit down to my lips doesn’t go unnoticed. The hand they’ve left on my shoulder grips fractionally tighter. I let my eyes close and continue falling until I find what I’m searching for.

My lips find theirs and I kiss them, softly, barely there, before pulling back. I expect that to be it, for Armin to shift away from me and laugh awkwardly but they don’t. They move forward and kiss me back, firmly. I let my eyes drift closed and focus on their soft lips, their delicate nose brushing my cheek. The hand on my shoulder slides up to caress the back of my head, as I let my fingertips ghost up the side of their arm. I cup Armin’s face and kiss them back more fervently.

I lick softly over Armin's bottom lip and feel their breathing quicken. There’s the taste of something sweet and sharp on their lips. I chase it, sliding my tongue into their mouth, earning me the tiniest little hum. I quickly sink into a fog of escapism and relish every moment. I can feel myself getting pulled deeper with every swipe of Armin’s tongue, but with it, the knowledge that if I allow myself to come to my senses – even for just a second – the spell will be broken. _No, not yet. Sink with me Armin. Stay with me a little longer_. They tug gently on my shaggy undercut and I can’t help the soft moan that tumbles from my lips onto theirs. I let my fingers trail from Armin’s face down to their waist and grip firmly, before moving again to their thigh. I knead the firm flesh with my thumb as I plummet, deeper and deeper into the soft heat of our kiss. My hand shifts, sliding up closer, closer still, almost up to-

“Jean wait,” Armin pants, pulling away from me. The spell is broken. They don’t have to say anything else, I know it’s over, but I listen anyway. “If this is what you need I’m here, but…I get the feeling that, this isn’t really what you want?”

Trust Armin to know me better than I know myself. I could play along with my heart instead of my head, convince myself that I really do want this, but my head wins out in the end. Armin’s right. This isn’t what I want, I’m just searching for a distraction after realising I’m most definitely lusting after Marco. _Hang on, what was that?_ I stop and process what they’ve just said to me - ‘If this is what you need I’m here’. Fuck. Was I really just about to throw myself at Armin for the sake of needing a ‘distraction’? With no regard for their feelings or how it could affect things between us? _Christ. When did you become such a self-absorbed fucking shit?_ The realisation that I just came so close to using Armin for my own selfish reasons knocks me sick. What the fuck was I thinking?

“Fuck, Armin I…shit,” I don’t even know what to say. I just put my head in my hands.

“Hey! Jean c’mon it’s okay.” _Arrgggh!! No, you’re making them feel bad! They haven’t done anything wrong!_

“No, Armin it’s not okay.” I look directly at them. “I am so fucking sorry.”

There’s not a single hint of anger or disappointment in their face when they look at me. They just smile. “Jean there’s nothing to be sorry for, alright? We’re just a bit drunk. If anything, I’m more shocked it’s taken us this long to have a drunken kiss. Two hot friends who’ve known each other for how many years? I’m offended it’s taken you this long to make a move,” they joke nudging me in the shoulder.

“I don’t deserve you Armin.” I don’t. I really don’t. I could’ve royally fucked up our friendship just now and they’re letting me off the hook. Not only that but they’re still making me feel better, painting a smile back on my unworthy face.

“Sure you do. C’mon let’s go see what the others are up to. You know how dangerous it is to leave them unsupervised for too long.”

“Yeah. Yeah okay.” I let Armin help me to my feet, like so many times before, and squeeze their hand in an unspoken vow to never allow myself to do something so stupid ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My longest chapter yet. If you made it to the end, thank you soooooooo freakin' much!!!
> 
> Oh my sweet Jean. You are indeed fucked.
> 
> Next chapter already in progress! :D


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's way too late to be this locked inside ourselves  
> The trouble is that you're in love with someone else  
> It should be me. Oh, it should be me

Armin turns to leave but I stop short.

“Jean?”

“Are you sure we’re good Armin?” I know I’ve said sorry, but it doesn’t feel enough.

“Yes you idiot,” they smile. “C’mere.” I’m pulled into a big hug and squeeze them back with as much love and warmth as I can convey in a mere cuddle. I am so fucking lucky to have a friend like Armin. I’ll never take that for granted again.

We finally head to the door and Armin’s just about to turn the handle when they freeze…I hear it too. Someone shouting ‘Connie’ and they sound _pissed_. Creeping forward, we press our ears to the door. I hear footsteps stomping towards us and for a moment, I panic that someone’s about to slam the door open into our faces.

“Connie!” It’s Sasha.

“What!?” I hear Connie snarl. It sounds so unlike him.

“Will you just fucking talk to me!” Sasha says in a loud whisper, clearly not wanting everyone to hear. I feel a bit guilty for eavesdropping, but I also want to find out what’s going on so I know how bad a state Connie will be in tomorrow.

“Why d’you wanna talk to _me_ when you’ve got that fucking Hemsworth brother next door!”

“Oh, grow up Connie!”

“What? You’ve barely left his side all night!”

“I’ve been talking to everyone tonight, not just him you arsehole!”

“Bullshit.”

“Well even if I had, who could blame me? You’ve been acting like a complete dickhead towards me since you got here. What’s your problem?”

There’s a pause. _C’mon Connie. Just step up and tell her how you feel._

“I haven’t got a _problem_ ,” he says through gritted teeth. “So just go back to throwing yourself at that fucking Neanderthal and leave me the fuck alone.”

The bathroom door slams and I hear Sasha stomp back towards the living room. Armin and I let out a collective breath.

“Crap. That didn’t sound good,” they whisper. I shake my head in agreement. “Should we talk to Connie?” they ask.

“I’ll do it. You’ve done enough comforting for one night,” I smile, opening the door. They return my expression and nod before heading back down the hallway. Guilt still burns hot on the back of my neck as I watch them go, but I try to shake it off, turning to knock on the bathroom door.

“OCCUPIED!!” Connie barks.

“Con?” I say tentatively.

“…Go away Jean. Let me piss in peace.” I turn the door handle and start to enter. “Hey! I said I’m pissing!” he snaps.

“Sitting on the toilet lid with your pants up? Yeah, sure looks like it,” I quip, closing the door and leaning against it.

He just stares at me. “What?”

“I heard you and Sasha.”

“What? How?!”

“Look I didn’t mean to, but you guys weren’t exactly being quiet.”

He huffs exasperatedly, “C’mon then out with it, you’ve obviously got something to say.” He’s not angry, more resigned, like he already knows what’s coming.

“She’s right Con. You have been a dickhead to her tonight. What’s going on?”

“You saw the same thing I did when we first got here Jean. If she’s into that fucking blonde hulk she doesn’t have to rub it in my face.”

“She’s not rubbing it in your face! She’s -!” I stop to take a breath. Okay, time for the tough love. “Connie listen. I know how you feel about Sasha okay. I know how pleased you must have been when she came back, but…she doesn’t owe you shit.” My words are harsh but I try to say them as gently as possible.

For a second, I worry Connie’s going to argue with me, but he doesn’t and I keep talking. “You’ve never told her how you feel and if you don’t do it soon, you’re going to miss your chance for good. You can’t expect her to wait around forever.” He still says nothing, just hangs his head. Deep down, he knows I’m right. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think she’s really into that Eld guy, but even if she is that’s her business. If you spit your dummy out every time she breaths next to someone else, you’re gonna ruin it.” I’m kneeling in front of him now, my hands on his shoulders.

“I know. I know Jean. I just…Fuck. I’ve really fucked this up, haven’t I?” he says, shaking his head.

“Almost, but nothing a bit of grovelling can’t fix. I mean, it’ll have to be a really good fucking apology, but if you just try, I’m sure she’ll listen.”

“You think?” he says hopefully.

“Dude yes! I saw the way you two were at the bar the other night. There’s definitely something there okay, but if you can’t even be her friend there’s no way she’s gonna want anything more. So stop acting like a dick.”

I’m giving him my best shit-eating grin and he chuckles, “Yeah okay.”

“Okay,” I repeat, and I must be shit-faced, because I wrap him into a big bear hug and lift him to his feet.

“Fuck me! How much have you had?” he laughs as I put him down.

“Shut up I’ve not had that much!” I protest opening the door to let us out.

“Jean you just hugged me out of choice, so either you’re mortal or you’ve been a secret softy this whole time.”

“No I’m n- Ah!!” I shriek as he jumps on my back, “The fuck Con!?”

“You’re just a big squishy cinnamon roll aren’t you Jean-bo!”

He’s got both arms wrapped tightly around my shoulders and is actually nuzzling the side of my face. “Connie get off!” I really wish I sounded pissed, but my laughter is betraying me. I stagger up the hallway with him clinging to me like an overly affectionate backpack.

“Does the fire service let big squishy cinnamon rolls in? You should probably have told them you know!”

The bastard’s goddamn tickling me now and my legs buckle beneath me, “Aaahahaha! Con! Fuc- ahaha!”

My body gives up trying to form words. Shrieking giggles are all that escape me as I toss around on the floor trying to shake Connie off. “C’mon Jean-bo! Give me a fireman’s lift! You know you need to practise!”

Then comes a voice form above us, “Wait what!?” _FUCK_. Connie freezes and my giddiness from the tickle-attack dissolves in an instant, as we both look up to find Historia. “Did he just say firem-?” She doesn’t get the chance to finish. I throw Connie off me and am on my feet in a millisecond, clasping my hand over her mouth.

“Ssshhhh!!” I hiss. Her eyebrows knit together in utter confusion.

“Shit. Sorry Jean,” Connie says sheepishly.

My eyes dart side to side, making sure nobody else heard Connie flapping his big, stupid mouth. “Right,” I grab them both by the wrist. “Both of you get in here now!” I hiss dragging them into Marlowe’s room.

I barely have time to close the door before Historia speaks. “What the fuck Jean? What’s going on???”

“You and your big, dumb mouth Springer!” I snap at Connie.

“Listen, I’m sorry alright, but you need to start telling people Jean. This is getting ridiculous!” he answers defiantly.

“Tell people what!?” Historia shouts.

“Ssshhhhh!!!”

She rolls her eyes. “Tell people what!?” she whispers. “Did I hear right? Did you get in?”

My shoulders drop as I heave out a breath. I’m just going to look stupid if I try to lie now. “Look, I’m not exactly in yet. I have to pass my training first.”

“Oh for-! Jean! You _are_ in and you’re _not_ going to fail your training okay!”

“You don’t know that Connie and I won’t be in until I do! There’s every chance I could fuck this all up again!”

Okay. I feel like I should explain.

When I was about 9, we went on a school trip to the local fire station. We got to try on the uniform, see inside of the fire engine, meet and greet with the fire crew, all that jazz. And it was awesome. All I could talk about when I got home was how much I wanted to be a fire fighter when I grew up. To be fair, most of the other kids in our class did after that trip too, but I was the only one who really stuck to it. I’d bring it up whenever I could, thinking people would be impressed with my choice of career. I wanted them to be. I wanted them to think I was brave, that I’d become a hero.

I couldn’t apply until I was 18, so (at my mam’s insistence) I stayed on at school to get some A-Levels, but my goal to become a firefighter was always firmly in my mind. And Christ was I a dick about it. I’d use it to chat up girls, thinking they’d fall at my feet (they didn’t). I’d get super competitive about anything physical. I’d challenge people to stupid stuff like ‘who can do the most one-handed pull ups’ and ‘who can do the most squats with Armin on their back’ in a misguided effort to prove myself and lord it over everyone. I was cocky, so cocky that it never even occurred to me I might not get in. I look back now and cringe at what an arrogant little shit I was. I couldn’t stop bragging when I passed the application stage and got invited to an interview. I thought I was on my way to achieving my goal. I was sorely mistaken.

The first part of the day was a group interview. We were split into teams and given a bunch of physical and problem-solving activities. I was so focused on being the best and outshining everyone that I completely overlooked the fact that they were more interested in how I interacted with others and whether I could work as part of a team. Then came the one-to-one interview and I fucking bombed. I stammered through my answers and struggled to give any concrete examples of how I embodied the attributes needed. It was a shit-show. I refused to leave the house for a whole week afterwards. I was so fucking embarrassed after mouthing off to everyone like I was practically in already. It was a massive wake-up call.

Anyway, fast forward a few years and I finally worked up the courage to apply again. After my redundancy, I thought hard about what the fuck I actually wanted to do with my life. I realised I still held onto my firefighter dream, but for very different reasons. I no longer wanted bragging rights and hero status. I just knew that it was something I could truly put my heart and soul in to. I could make a difference. I _wanted_ to make a difference. But I also finally recognised, in order to do that, I needed to work alongside others who felt the same way. It wasn’t just about me.

I got the phone call a couple of weeks ago. Really impressed during group activities, came across very well in interview, particularly liked my response to working under pressure blah, blah, blah. I should have been ecstatic, and part of me was, but I was also terrified. Am terrified. I’ve been given a second chance, and I’m so scared of fucking it up. I hadn’t even told anyone I was applying again, let alone that I passed the interview. No way was I going to make a big deal out of it like last time when there was every chance I could screw it up.

I sat on it for three days before I cracked and told Armin, who convinced me to share the news with Connie and Eren. To their credit, they’ve all been amazing about it. Even though they've tried their best to convince me I should be proud of myself and sing it from the rooftops, they understand why I won’t and they haven't tried to push it. Although, despite my stubbornness, even I realise I'll have to start telling people soon. I just didn’t want to be forced into it by Connie goddamn Springer putting his stupid, drunken foot in it. Actually, now I think of it, I really should've seen this coming. You don’t make friends with an idiot without expecting it to bite you in the ass occasionally.

“He's right Jean,” Historia states taking a step towards me. “They don’t just let anyone in and they obviously saw something special in you.” She reaches out and places her hands on my shoulders, holding me firmly. “You're gonna do amazing. I’m so happy for you!”

She's too sweet. I can’t meet her eyes and I can't stop the smile spreading across my face. I just look down at my feet. “Thanks Historia.”

Her arms encircle my middle and she squeezes me. “Eeeep! Fireman Jean!” she squeaks against my chest.

“Fire fighter,” I laugh. “We’re genderless now remember?”

“Move aside make way for fireman Jean!” Connie sings bounding over to us.

“Jesus Christ Con.”

“Cause he’s gonna save the day, fireman Jean!” He wraps his arms around me and Historia.

“Stop. Now!” I beg.

“He’s the one we adore. Jean is the hero next door!” Historia giggles against my chest and try as a might, I can’t help joining her.

Connie might be an idiot, but he’s my idiot and I fucking love him. He never fails to keep my chin up, and to be honest, it’s kind of a relief to tell someone else. “How long have you been waiting to sing the ‘Fireman Sam’ song to me then?”

“Oh my god, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for a socially acceptable moment!” He gives us one last squeeze then steps back with a huge, goofy grin on his face.

Historia laughs but then looks at me again, her face determined. “I really think you should tell people Jean. You know everyone will be happy for you and we’ll all be here to support you whatever happens.”

It’s like a weight has been lifted and I can finally fucking breathe. It’s not that I didn’t already know how fucking amazing my friends are, but hearing they’ll support me no matter what is so reassuring. I feel almost giddy with relief.

“Yeah, I know I should. I will. Promise. Fuck…thanks guys.”

“Soooo maybe it was a good thing I opened my mouth in front of Historia?” Connie suggests cheekily.

“Maybe,” I grin.

“Okay good because I might as well tell you now that Mikasa knows too.”

“She what? What the fuck Con!??”

“I’m sorry okay! She overheard me and Eren talking about it.” Un-fucking-believable. “But we made her promise not to say anything and she obviously didn’t or Historia would have known!”

I still feel a little pissed about it but he’s right and I’ve basically decided to tell everyone now anyway. Christ, I am so fucking drained I can’t even be bothered to pretend I’m annoyed. After everything with Marco, Armin, Connie and now this I am _done_ with drama. I just want to relax for the rest of the night. Or, morning I guess? What even is the time?

“You know what Con? It’s fine don’t worry about it. C’mon let’s go get a drink.”

“Yes! Let’s get shots!” Historia squeals opening the door for us.

“Hang on! I still haven’t had my fireman’s lift!” Connie demands. The fucking cheek of this guy.

“For the love of god, fucking here!” I growl, throwing him over my shoulder. He chuckles through words of encouragement, while Historia leads the way clapping and chanting ‘shots, shots, shots!’.

“Oww! Careful! Your shoulder’s digging into me!” he whines as we reach the kitchen.

“Nawwwww is my broad, muscular shoulder digging into your tummy tum tum?” I jibe sarcastically. Nearly everyone’s in the kitchen, chatting/slurring loudly and making more drinks. Marco glances in our direction and laughs at us. I ignore the somersault and focus on torturing Connie. “Now where should I put you down?” I say, feigning ignorance and heading towards the kitchen sink. Connie realises what I’m up to and starts squirming like a toddler in a tantrum.

“Noooo! Don’t you fucking dare Kirschtein!” I hover dangerously close to the dirty dish water and he tries to scramble further down my back. I’m laughing so much that I genuinely nearly drop him in. He starts squealing like a stuck pig, which makes me laugh even more. “Eren! Save me!” he cries. Connie starts sliding over my shoulder, and judging by the snorts and chuckles behind me, I guess Eren must have grabbed a hold of him.

A shot of something, that smells like Sambuca mixed with drain unblocker, is shoved into my hand as I turn back around. Everyone in the kitchen has one now. Historia instructs us all to down it, which is quickly followed by a cacophony of splutters and coughs. Marco laughs softly as he wipes a stray drop off Floch’s chin with his thumb before giving him a quick kiss.

 _For fuck’s sake._ Suppose I’m gonna have to get used to this until my stupid crush runs its course. “D’ya wanna grab a seat?” I ask Connie. “I’m fucked after that tickle attack!”

“Yeah me too,” he grins.

We head back into the living room and for the second time tonight, I try and fail to get Connie straight back into the kitchen. Sasha’s in here…with Eld. And they’re not just talking this time. I can only see the back on Sasha’s head but it’s pretty obvious her and Eld are kissing. Connie’s face pales as he takes it in, then he turns on his heel, stalks back through the kitchen and down the hallway.

“Con, wait,” I chase after him. I don’t know what to say. I guess I can’t really say anything except, “I’m sorry.”

I brace myself for another angry blow up, but it doesn’t come. He just shuffles awkwardly, struggling to meet my eye. “It’s okay Jean,” he says hoarsely. He turns away from me and sniffs, rubbing half his face with his sleeve. _Aw Con, no_. My heart fucking breaks for the guy. “Look, I think I’m just gonna go.”

“What? Nooo Con. Stay. Please. We can just-“

“No really Jean it’s okay. It’s my own stupid fault. I just wanna go home.”

“Okay gimme a second and I’ll come with you.”

“No no no it’s alright. I think I’d rather be on my own anyway. You’re right. I need to apologise. I wanted to do it in person but I think I’ll send her a message. Maybe I can still keep her as a friend.”

I’m reluctant to let him go home without me, but I can tell he means it when he says he wants to be by himself.

“Okay,” I sigh. “I think sending her a message is a good call Con. And don’t worry about what you saw in there okay? She’s really drunk and-”

“Pissed at me. Yeah I know.” He tries to smile at me. “Right then. Catch you later.”

“If you change your mind though, let me know and I’ll head back. Alright?”

“Alright. See you.” He heads down the stairs towards the front door. Ugh. Fuck.

I head back into the kitchen, hoping nobody heard the door closing so I don’t have to explain where Connie is (and more importantly, _why_ he left). Thankfully everyone seems lost in their own conversations. A few people head for the living room door and I brace myself for someone to start whooping at the sight of Sasha and Eld, but it doesn’t happen. Curious, I follow Eren to the sofa and find Eld is chatting with Oluo and Gunther while Sasha is nowhere in sight. I think about going to find her, but decide it’s probably best not to intervene and go to find a seat instead.

I don’t realise how tired I am until I sit down. I think we’re all starting to feel it now. Everyone’s slouched next to each other like dozy bumblebees, our voices considerably less excitable than an hour ago. I manage to bagsie a place on the sofa next to Eren and we fall into a silly conversation about Big Mouth with Mikasa, Historia and Ymir (the latter of whom flirts shamelessly with Historia at every opportunity).

I shift around until I’ve angled myself in such a way that I don’t have Marco and Floch in my eye line, who are wrapped around each other on the adjacent chair talking to Armin and Annie. Eren takes my new position as his cue to lean back on me and get comfy. This kid. He gets so bloody touchy-feely when he drinks.

Usually, I’d push him away and shout something along the lines of ‘I'm not your fucking armchair!’ but, I’m ashamed to admit, I just let him, enjoying the feeling of a warm body against me. It’s nice having someone to snuggle okay? Even if it is purely platonic. _Christ, you are so fucking pathetic right now_. Ymir and Historia pay us no attention but Mikasa gives me a quick, soft smile. I know it still amazes her to this day that we’re friends, considering how shitty we used to be to each other. I give her a half smile/half eye roll and re-join the conversation.

“Hey, we're gonna head off,” my eyes look up to find Marco standing over me.

“Oh. Okay. G-good to see you man.” I shift slightly to give him a friendly-can’t possibly read anything into purely platonic-hand slap, expecting Eren will want to do the same. _Oh_. Glancing down, I find Eren is out for the count.

I hear Marco laugh and when I look up again, I have to catch myself because WOW. Of course I’ve seen him smile before, but the softness in his face when he’s sleepy like this makes it nothing short of stunning. I blink rapidly to stop my eyes looking so wide

“It’s okay don’t move,” he chuckles. “He looks ready for bed.” _I’m ready for your bed. (STOP IT!)_

“E-err, y-yeah I guess he is. Will you be okay getting home?”

“Yeah fine, we’ve booked a taxi.”

 _Oh shit_. The implication of this hits me like a punch to the gut and I’m consumed by a tidal wave of questions, that only serve to torment me – Does that mean he’s going back to Floch’s? _Probably._ Have they slept together yet? _Have you seen how fucking attractive Marco is?? There’s no way Floch hasn’t tried to tap that by now._ How long have they been sleeping together? _Long enough._ Is Floch better in bed than I would be? _Seriously!? Excluding a few drunken kisses, you have ZERO experience with guys, so what do you think!?_

“Does Floch live far from here?” I ask in a vain attempt to determine where Marco’s going.

“Only about five minutes from where I live.” Shit. That doesn’t really tell me anything.

Floch appears at Marco’s side. “You ready to go?” he asks with a knowing smirk, pawing at Marco’s waist. Well THAT tells me something.

“Yeah,” Marco beams. _Ugh_. Then he turns and gives me another soft smile. “I’ll see you at practice Jean.”

“Yeah okay. See you.”

“Okay see you. Bye guys,” he bids to the others.

I watch him go as far as my neck will allow, before turning my head back round and huffing into Eren’s hair. He doesn’t even stir. I try to concentrate on whatever the girls are talking about now at the other end of the sofa, but my stupid brain keeps drifting back to thoughts of Floch and Marco. Holding hands in the taxi. Their lips crashing against one another as they stagger up the stairs. Floch’s hand slipping under Marco’s top before tearing it over his head. _STOP IT! STOP IT! STOP IT!_ I scrunch my eyes shut and try my hardest to think of something else. The chatter around me eventually turns into nondescript noises and murmurs, then nothing at all. I don’t remember falling asleep.

___________________________________

“Hmm? _Tsssssssssssss!_ ”

 _AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH FUUUUUCCCCCCKKKKK!!!!!_ My hands fly up to clutch my forehead. It feels like a thousand knives are trying push their way out the front of my skull. _Jesus-fucking-CHRIST_. I don’t think I’ve EVER been this hungover. That’s what I get for mixing my drinks so much.

“Fuck,” I whisper as I try to even out my breathing again.

Once the initial shock wears off, I tentatively creak my eyes open to take in my surroundings. I’m still on the couch in Eren’s living room. He’s fast asleep at the other end of the sofa. Someone’s been kind enough to put a blanket over me at some point. Armin and Mikasa are spooning on the other couch under the pink and yellow futon Armin always brings to sleepovers. Sasha’s on the adjacent chair with her head back and mouth wide open, snoring softly. There’s also a small lump under a blanket on the floor that could be Historia. Two double beds up for grabs and we all end up sleeping in here. I would laugh if I didn’t want to cry over how bad I feel. I squint at the clock on the far wall and wait for my eyesight to focus. 10:20. Ugh, it feels _way_ earlier than that.

I let my eyes close and start to roll over onto my side. I’m guessing I’ve slept in the exact same position all night, because my joints are stiff as fuck and my neck cracks as I turn over.

_OH SHIT! I shouldn’t have moved! I think I’m gonna be-_

I fall off the sofa onto all fours and scramble to my feet, darting for the kitchen sink as fast as I can. My palms slam down on the edge of it as I heave forward. Dissatisfied when nothing comes up, my body retches again and again and again. My vision blurs, water streaming from my eyes. It feels like my skin is on fire and I’m STILL fucking retching. _OH MY GOD JUST KILL ME NOW!!!_

Finally (fucking finally!) it stops. I slump down onto the floor, curl into a foetal position and smoosh my face against the freezing tiled floor to cool down. _Ugh…god_. I lie there for a few moments, my heated skin slowly cooling but leaving a clammy film of sweat in its wake.

“Man are you even alive?”

I peek an eye open. Eren’s holding himself up against the kitchen door frame. His usual olive complexion is a weird mix of green and grey and his braid is sticking out in all sorts of crazy directions on one side. In short, he looks like shit. At least it’s not just me then.

“What does it look like?” I croak out in reply.

“Yeah. Me neither.” He shuffles closer then steps over me to pour himself a glass of water from the tap. The sound of the running water makes me realise I haven’t pissed in about a century and I start crawling along the floor and down the hall towards the bathroom - I don’t trust my legs to support me at this point. The bathroom door squeaks on its hinges as I push it open, ripping my eardrums to shreds and intensifying the pounding in my skull. I crawl inside, grasp the side of the bath and start to pull myself.

“JEEESUS!!”

My heart stops and I fall backwards onto my arse with a bump. Something’s in the fucking bath! Cautiously, I push myself up to my knees and take a peek. Oh. It’s just Eld, fast asleep in a make shift bath-bed of blankets and pillows and…Oh my god. This is too fucking funny! Someone’s drawn a massive dick across his cheek! Without a second thought, I pat down my pockets for my phone. _Don’t wake up! Don’t wake up!_ I slide it out and snap a picture to show Connie later. If his hangover is anything like mine, this will _definitely_ cheer him up!

Trying not to laugh out loud, I put my phone away and take care of business. Eld groans and rolls over but doesn’t wake up. Best he doesn’t. Would probably be a bit of a shock to wake up and see a guy standing next to him with his dick in his hand.

___________________________________

By 11 o’clock, I’ve just about pulled myself together and decide to book an Uber. There’s no way in hell I’m walking all the way home in my state. I ask Armin and Mikasa if they want to jump in but they’ve already promised to stay and help Eren clean up (suckers). I go to shake Historia awake to ask her and nearly shit myself when I realise it’s Annie.

"Oh fuck! Sorry Annie I thought you were Historia!"

She fixes me with a stare that could freeze the sun and whips the blanket up over her head.

My ride home only takes 10 minutes but it is fucking _rough_ with this hangover. I think I'm going to be sick a few times and have to keep reminding myself how big the fine will be if I do.

I stumble through the front door and sit with my head between my knees on the bottom step for a bit to combat the nausea, before literally crawling up the stairs to my room. I press my ear against Connie's door on my way, but don't hear anything. I doubt he's gone out, probably still sleeping it off.

When I enter my room, I could actually cry at the sight of my bed. _God I've missed you!_ I think dramatically. I strip down to my boxers and crawl into bed from the bottom up, groaning as I go. I only make it halfway before I reach up and drag my pillow down to meet me under the blanket. I fall back to sleep straight away.

___________________________________

I wake up a few hours later feeling better, but absolutely starving. My stomach sounds like something akin to a dragon getting buggered with a rusty chainsaw. I can’t quite bring myself to get out of bed though, not yet. Rolling over, I grab my phone to check the time but instead, see a bunch of Instagram notifications. Tags and comments. Historia’s posted some pictures of last night. _Oh jeez, let’s see how bad they are then._

The first picture that comes up is an action shot of Sasha playing beer pong. I can just make out myself and the rest of my team mates in the top left. I’m actually grabbing handfuls of my own hair as I watch her and smile at my own ridiculousness. I swipe left through the others. There’s one of Armin, Eren and Historia after they got their matching braids with the hashtag #nutellasandwich, then one with Sasha included. _Aw shit!_ There’s a fucking video of me and Sasha dancing to Timber! Christ, we really weren’t as awesome as I thought at the time. At least it’s only 8 seconds long. There’s a group selfie that I DO NOT remember posing for and a couple cute pics of Historia, Mikasa and Sasha.

The next one stops me dead.

Marco, me, Connie and Floch chatting on the sofa. Connie and Floch are chatting seriously, but Marco and I are both laughing, like actually hysterical. I’m hunched forward spilling my drink slightly and Marco’s leaning back, his eyes all crinkled up. _Oh yeah. The moment he told you about Tarzan._

At first, I feel the beginnings of a warm flush spreading up my chest and neck, but it’s quickly replaced with an uncomfortable shiver that prickles over my skin as I remember more from last night. Our dorky music chat in the kitchen, the way Marco looked at me when I was playing the guitar and then that fucking kiss that ruined it, Armin… _Oh shit Armin. You fucking kissed Armin you absolute dick!_

“Ughhhh,” I groan throwing an arm over my eyes, trying to block out all the images flashing in front of me. _Shit Kirschtein, what the fuck were you thinking?_ WELL I OBVIOUSLY WASN’T!! I think back at myself angrily.

I quickly swipe through the remaining pictures to make sure there isn’t anything else important (or incriminating) I need to remember. Thankfully, nothing else comes back to me, but I do learn the identity of the ‘Face-Penis Bandit’ (as I have decided to call them). The last picture is of Ymir posing with two thumbs up and a sharpie in her mouth next to Eld, a huge dick freshly inked onto his cheek. Christ, she’s brave posting the evidence on Instagram!

I feel fractionally better chuckling at Ymir’s expression, but it doesn’t take long for my shitty feeling to return, and I don’t just mean my hangover. My stomach, as if sensing I’m about to bury my sorry ass back under the blanket for the rest of the day, makes an ungodly gurgling noise. _Oh alright!_ I think and decide to pull on some pjs before heading to the kitchen.

Opening my door, I can hear muffled music coming from Connie’s room. Great he’s up! Maybe I can convince him to order pizza with me, but…Hmm. His music’s a bit loud considering he’s more than likely hungover. For a brief moment, I consider leaving him to it. Yes my hangover’s a bit better, but if he’s feeling as fresh as a daisy and acting all chirpy when I feel like this, I swear I’ll knock him the fuck out.

I go to his door but pause when I recognise the music.

  _Is he…Is he listening to Red Jumpsuit Apparatus!???_

Oh wait, yeah, his fight with Sasha. Christ. Now the music makes sense! One bad incident with her and he regresses into a goddamn teenager.

I tap lightly on the door. “Con?”

Nothing. I push it open a little. “Connie?”

Still no reply, but there’s a big lump in the middle of his bed. It looks like he’s sitting up so at least I know he’s awake. “Con?” I repeat, moving round the side of the bed.

This time, the blanket slowly lifts up on one side, until I can see a sad little face looking back at me. “Hey.”

“Hey bud. You alright?” I don’t know why I’m asking. He looks like crap. Looks like I’m not on my own in hangover hell, although I’m guessing his demeanour isn’t entirely hangover related.

“Been better,” he says simply, getting out from under the blanket and turning the music down.

I huff as I climb onto the bottom of the bed and sit cross-legged. “Yeah me too. I honestly thought I was dying when I woke up this morning…still feel a bit rough mind.”

“Hmm,” is all he says.

I can tell he wants to talk but isn’t sure how to start, so I help him out. “You heard from Sasha?”

“Nope.”

“Did you text her like you said?”

“Yeah. Here I’ll show you,” he says sliding his phone open and tapping a few buttons.

His message is spot on to be fair. Yes it would have been better to say it in person but, for a text message, it’s really sincere. He fully owns the fact that he was an absolute arsehole, that she didn’t deserve any of it and he doesn’t mention Eld at all. Good call. She’d be hard pressed not to forgive him, or at least hear him out if she does want to speak face to face. The message finishes by inviting her to our gig on Friday.

“She will reply Connie,” I assure him.

He shakes his head and twists his mouth, unconvinced. “Don’t think so. I sent it last night and I still haven’t heard anything.”

“She will! Look if she’s in the same state we’re in she’s probably still asleep.”

“Did they leave together Jean? I need to know so please don’t lie.”

“No! God, no. Look, I honestly didn’t see them together the rest of night and Sasha was still fast asleep when I lef- OH MY GOD!”

“What!?” Connie yelps, jumping at my sudden reaction.

“I almost forgot! I have a present for you!” He quirks an eyebrow at me as I run to go grab my phone. I come skidding back in with a massive grin on my face and land with a bounce on the end of his bed, crossing my legs again like an excited teenage girl. I don’t care, he’s going to love this.

I tap into my gallery and turn my phone around so Connie can see. He leans forward narrowing his eyes at first, as he works out what he’s looking at. Then the penny drops and his face splits into a massive grin, his eyes lighting up and going wide.

“Oh my fucking god!” he laughs grabbing the phone out of my hand. “Is that a dick!?”

“Yep!” I say gleefully.

“Did you do this!?” he asks half shocked, half fucking loving it.

“No, no, no! I just found him like that, sleeping in the bath. Here, I’ll show you who it was,” I say, motioning for him to give my phone back. I find the picture of Ymir and hand the phone back.

“Haha! Aw man. I feel like I should send her flowers or something.” He passes the phone back to me, his face falling serious again. “So…so they weren’t together, y’know after I left?”

“Nah. I never saw them together. And Sasha slept by herself on the chair in the living room as far as I can tell.” He looks at me and smiles softly, relieved. “I’m sure she’ll text you back. Just give her a chance to get over her hangover.”

He sighs before nodding in agreement, “Okay. Thanks man.”

“No worries,” I smile, getting up off the bed. “Now can we pleeeeeease order some fucking pizza before I die?”

“Oh my god yes please!” he says grabbing his phone and opening the JustEat app. “The usual with wedges?”

“Yeaaah. Should we get dough balls too?”

“Yes. Definitely.”

“Oh, and a bottle of coke, I need some sugar.”

The app gives us a delivery estimate of 30 minutes, so we take it in turns grabbing quick showers and then drag our blankets to the sofa. The delivery guy doesn’t even flinch at the fact I’m wearing pyjamas and ordering pizza at 3pm, so I give him a decent tip. Connie and I settle onto either side of the sofa with our blankets and all the food in the middle.

“What d’you fancy then?” I ask, switching the TV on and bringing up the Netflix app.

“Dunno,” he says around a mouthful of pizza. “I’m still too tired to really concentrate on anything.”

“Me too.” Then after a moment’s thought I say, “You know what I think we need?” I turn to him, looking deadly serious. “We need Bob.”

He grins around another mouthful, “Oh my god yes! Get Bob on! We need him after all the drama this weekend.”

We spend the next few hours listening to the soothing voice of Bob Ross, while munching our way through the mountain of carbs between us. We doze off a few times but get our second wind around 7pm and spend a couple more hours playing FIFA before crawling back into bed again. I pray I don’t have a two-day hangover, not when I’m back at work tomorrow.

I knock the bedside lamp off before checking the alarm on my phone. I decide to have one last look at my Instagram notifications, a few more have come through since this morning (well, afternoon). Historia’s pictures have racked up a lot of hearts since I was last on. I swipe through until I find that picture of me and Marco again.

I’m acting like a lovesick teenager but I can’t help it. I spend way too long looking at his face – the flush in his cheeks with his freckles still visible under the pinkish hue, the way his floppy hair is flicking out to the sides because of how he’s leaning back, how one side of his mouth seems to be laughing a little wider than the other, causing a small dimple to form next to it, how (despite the bad lighting) I can still make out how dark his eyelashes are. Historia’s captured him at the perfect moment – natural, carefree…stunningly handsome.

And then I look at myself, sloshing my drink and laughing like an absolute dork. It is NOT a flattering picture of me, but I look so…happy, I find it hard to care. I double tap, right over Marco’s face like a total goon, watching the red heart rise up and evaporate. _Okay. That’s quite enough of that! Now put your phone down before you really embarrass yourself_. I turn over and let out a long breath before snuggling down. I fall asleep trying my best to remember that moment and replay it over and over again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies that this chapter is nowhere near as long as the last one but it felt like a sensible place to pause before all the stoof that follows.  
> Please accept my promise of a nice fluffy dream in the next chapter by way of an apology ;)
> 
> Also I have a Tumblr


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER/SPOILER ALERT for this chapter. There is some discussion of possible child abuse/domestic violence
> 
> Longest chapter yet :D hope you enjoy!

_I wish he was my boyfriend_

_I wish he was my boyfriend_

_I'd love him to the very end_

_But instead he's just a friend_

_I wish he was my boyfriend_

 

 

_I'm standing, holding my guitar. I’m not sure where I am or why I’m here, but I can feel anticipation prickling all over my skin, because I’m not alone._

_'Here, let me show you,' says a familiar voice. Marco’s striding towards me, slowly, his face serious, eyes searing into me. He takes off his bass and moves behind me. 'Like this,' he says, placing one hand against my fret board, the other on the neck on my guitar. He's so close to me. Warmth is radiating from his torso against my back. His hot breath on my neck sends a light shiver through me._

_Then his hands aren’t on my guitar, because the guitar’s gone. His hands are on me, warm and firm. His fingertips spread out and trace the lines of my stomach, while his other hand firmly grips my bare shoulder._

Wait, when did we lose our shirts?

_And then it's not on my shoulder but sliding up my neck and tilting my head back. Brown, burning eyes lock onto mine. Fuck, they’re so intense. Our lips are excruciatingly close, barely millimetres apart. The crackle in the space between them is killing me._

Kiss me.

_My breathing becomes quick and ragged, as the hand on my stomach moves up to spread out across my chest, holding me._

God, please just kiss me.

_His lips finally crash into mine, hungry and needy as he kisses me again and again. The tips of his fingers dig ever so slightly into my flesh of my pectorals. His other hand cradles the back of my head, threading through my undercut._

Oh my god. More. I need more.

_He draws back for breath and I hear him pant._ Fucking hell. _I’m just getting over my dizziness when he grips the back of my hair and yanks firmly, exposing one side of my neck. I can't stop the sharp gasp that escapes me, nor the way my tongue runs slowly over my lips, mourning the absence of his. He trails kisses down my neck and back up again, stopping just behind my ear. All the while his other hand travels south from my chest, down over my upper abdominals and further still._

So good. God this feels so fucking good.

_He licks a long, wet stripe from my shoulder up to my neck and tugs gently at my hair._

_'Ah! Marco!'_

_'Jean,' he purrs breathlessly, his voice causing my skin to break out in goose bumps._

_His hand slides down my body at a painfully slow pace. He pauses just above the waist band of my boxers. I hold my breath and feel him smile against my neck._

I can't take this.

_My hand flies up to grab him by the back of the head and I kiss him desperately. He kisses me back, hard, his tongue sliding firmly against mine...his fingers toying with the elastic on my waist band._

_'Mmm…Please,' I beg between kisses, not even caring how needy I sound. 'Marco, please.' His fingers start their descent. 'Please...'_

"Mmm…Marco..."

_The images become hazy and lose their focus._

No no no! Come back. Just stay asleep. Stay asleep…

I search for the sensation of Marco’s lips on mine again but I can’t find it. There’s nothing except white light trying to permeate my eyelids.

_God dammit. You just couldn’t stay the fuck asleep could you?_

I bury my face in the crook of my elbow and try my best to replay the dream, but it’s no use. I roll over with a huff and lie starfished in the middle of my bed. Looking down, I see I’m pitching a rather impressive tent (if I do say so myself!). Suppose I should take care of _that_ before work or I’m liable to put somebody’s eye out. At least I’ll have something good to think about in the shower while I do.

___________________________________

_For the love of god just pick one!_

It’s Wednesday afternoon and I’m standing over my bed appraising (practically identical) pairs of skinny jeans, pondering a very important question – which of these makes my arse look the best? And considering I’m meeting Marco in less than an hour, I really need to make a decision.

The black ones with no rips are a little tighter than the rest but I’ve already decided to wear my long sleeve, burgundy jersey, and that looks better with blue jeans.

_You’re being ridiculous. You do know that right?_

I am. And I’ve been ridiculous since I got the text on Tuesday night. I was feeling pretty left out when Connie, Eren and Marco sent me a band practise selfie on our group chat. Even the video they sent of Connie’s attempt at singing our opening track (complete with Eren and Marco wheezing hysterically off camera) did little to cheer me up, because all I could think about was how adorable Marco must’ve looked laughing like that and I was mad I was missing it.

I almost didn’t bother looking when my phone beeped for the third time in 10 minutes, but when I saw it was from Marco, I couldn’t open the message fast enough.

**ItsaMeeMarco:**

**_Hey Jean. I’m working til 5 tomorrow if you fancy getting food before practice again. No worries if not :)_ **

I replied within 20 seconds.

**HeresJeany:**

**_Hi! Yes definitely. Food sounds good. Should I ouch you up outside work again?_ **

**_*ouch you up_ **

**_*pink you up_ **

**_*PINK_ **

**_*Oh my fucking god!! P I C K!!!!_ **

Yeah, I know. What an absolute fucktard.

I could have played it cool, taken my time to reply and thought carefully about how to sound nonchalant, but no. Instead, I’d replied faster than fucking lightning and made a complete twat out of myself.

The minutes that followed, waiting to see if he’d reply to my train wreck of a message, were so intense I cut my break early and headed back out to the bar to keep busy. The more time that passed, the more I convinced myself he’d had major second thoughts about his offer and was thinking of a polite way to get out of it. But then he replied.

**ItsaMeeMarco:**

**_Hahaha! Omg amazing. Bloody autocorrect right? Anyway yes, if you could ouch, pink and/or pick me up outside work again that would be great_ **

I’ve been giddy ever since. Even Connie’s dad asked if I ‘had a new sweetheart on the go’ because of the way my stupid face lit up reading his messages. I just laughed it off. He doesn’t need to know I’m hopelessly attracted to a boy I can’t have.

And anyway, in a couple more weeks there’ll be nothing to tell. I’ve now entered the ‘slightly obsessed and ridiculously horny’ stage of my crush, which is a bitch of a stage, but it also means I’m a step closer to my ‘noticing things that annoy the shit out of me’ stage. I just hope my current state doesn’t last too long, because it’s only been three days and it’s already been relentless.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s quite freeing to let my imagination run wild now that I’ve accepted my feelings, but I’ve been masturbating so much, I think I’m putting myself at risk of dehydration. Also, the dreams I’ve had this week are bound to make things weird when I see Marco in the flesh again. I’m genuinely worried I’m going to blurt out something stupid like, ‘Do you know how hot you looked with my cock in your mouth last night?’

God, he really did though.

_Kirschtein! NO! Now is not the time! You’ve already wanked yourself into oblivion twice today and you need to leave in 15 minutes. FOCUS.ON.THE.JEANS!_

In the end, I pair the tight black jeans with the burgundy jersey, adding my grey hoody and blue denim jacket to brighten it up a bit. I spend the remaining ten minutes I have trying to do _something_ with my hair, which is now so shaggy, any attempts to tame it make me look like a fucking choir boy. Plus, the damp weather today is making it extra fluffy. Time runs out so I have to just convince myself I’m going for the ‘unruly rebel’ look (aka frizzy mess) and vow to make a hair appointment before the gig on Friday.

___________________________________

I park my Mini in the same spot as last time but hang back. After being mistaken for a weirdo child-catcher last week, I decide it’s best to wait until I can see people leaving this time. Don’t want to cause a panic again.

Once a few people with kids have gone past me, I lock the car and take a slow stroll down towards the nursery. Nobody pays me much attention, thank god. When I arrive at the stone wall near the gate, the pretty girl with the auburn hair is greeting people at the door again. I look for Marco but don’t see him, which is odd considering most people seem to have gone by now.

Eventually I’m the only one left and looking pretty conspicuous. The girl on the door smiles at me.

“Hi, are you waiting for someone?” she asks politely.

“Err, yeah I’m just waiting for Marco.”

“Oh okay. He’s just err…he’s just in a meeting. He won’t be long.”

“K thanks.”

_A meeting?_ The way she said it sounded a bit…I don’t know weird, but I don’t know enough about nurseries to work out what ‘meeting’ could be code for. I doubt he’s in trouble. He fucking loves his job, there’s no way he’d get pulled up for conduct or anything. Guess I’ll find out when he’s done.

I wait around for the best part of ten minutes before I see him through the doorway at the end of the corridor. The girl from before stops him and they talk in hushed tones for a moment. My stomach drops when I see his face. I can’t make it out super well but even from here, I can see he looks upset.

He continues down the hall and spots me before he’s out the door.

“Hey, I’m so sorry I’m late. Have you been waiting long?”

“No not too long it’s fine. Everything alright?”

“Yeah fine!” He smiles but it doesn’t reach anywhere near his eyes. “Sorry I had a meeting and it ran over. You had a good day off work?”

Wow. Okay. Very quick to change the subject. Guess he doesn’t want to talk about it. I’m kind of hurt he won’t open up about it, but then remind myself that he really hasn’t known me that long.

_You have absolutely no right to be offended, so stop pouting and answer the question._

“Yeah not bad thanks. Was at the gym this morning and then just dossed around the house.” (i.e. I spent an obscene amount of time wanking and choosing outfits/preening myself for this evening).

“Which gym do you go to?”

Everything I say leads to another question as we stroll up the road. It feels like he’s just filling the silence, talking about anything but himself. _What the hell happened in that meeting?_

I’m waffling on about a circuit class I sometimes go to, when I notice he’s drifted off, his face falling into that dejected expression he was wearing back at the nursery. His eyes are down cast, not looking at anything in particular. I don’t even think he’s listening to me, he’s just…gone. I stop talking, expecting him to ask me something else but he does nothing. I awkwardly cough into my hand and he flinches, slamming back into reality.

“I’m just err, parked at the end of the road,” I say for no reason other than to try and gloss over his weird reaction.

“Oh. Okay.” Is all I get.

This is a side of Marco I haven’t met before and I feel at a complete loss what to do or say for the best. Every moment I’ve shared with him so far has been filled with laughs and smiles and so much positivity - it usually just pours out of him like he can’t even help it. What on earth has happened to make his light go out like this?

The last few metres feel like miles and I desperately try to think of something casual to say. Now I’m the one trying to fill the void.

“Sooo…what kind of food you in the mood for?”

“Erm, I don’t really mind actually. You can decide,” he adds with another empty smile.

It starts drizzling and I pull my hood up, but Marco doesn’t seem to feel it.

“How ‘bout burgers again?”

“Okay.”

I unlock the car. Marco slides his bass onto the back seat and we ride in silence. My fingers are tense on the steering wheel as I head for Rose Quarter. The only sound above the engine is the occasional squeak of my windscreen wipers. Marco stares out of the window, just like last week, but I don’t see any curiosity and excitement when I catch his reflection in the rain-spattered window. He looks so different – pale, eyes glassy, lips tightly pursed together. I feel like I’m riding with a stranger.

_Fuck it_ I think, making up my mind. _What’s the worst that could happen?_

I pull in at the side of a quiet residential street and kill the engine. Marco lifts his head and glances around, clearly not recognising where we are.

“Oh. I thought we were heading to the same place as last time?”

“We are I just need to sort something out first,” I say, undoing my belt and twisting to face him, resting an arm on the wheel. He gives a quizzical look but doesn’t say anything, so I go for it.

“Okay, please feel free to tell me to fuck off and that this is none of my business but…you are clearly not okay. And I have no right to ask why, but you can trust me alright? Whatever’s going on…you don’t have to act like nothing’s happening just to be polite. We’re band mates. If you feel like shit, that’s fine. If you want to scream and punch a wall, no problem. I’m here regardless. You can tell me what’s going on.”

He looks at me and for a moment, I see the hint of a fake smile ghost across his face – like he’s about to deny everything – but it crumbles. His chest rises and falls quickly, in apprehension of whatever he’s about to say.

_I don’t care what’s happened_ I implore silently. _Please just talk to me, because I can’t bear how broken and defeated you look right now._

“Okay,” he begins in a raspy voice, not looking at me but staring straight ahead. “The thing is…Okay, there’s…There’s this kid at my nursery - Jacob - but everyone calls him Jakey. He comes in most afternoons. He’s got one front tooth missing, but when he smiles, it’s brighter than the sun.” Marco starts smiling too and looks down at his hands. “Everybody loves him. He’s just one of those kids that everybody wants to play with. Some of our kids have a new best friend every week because they’re always falling out with someone, but not Jakey.”

Marco’s smile drops from his face, like it was never there. My stomach flips at the sight. His hands start wringing around themselves. He pauses before speaking again, quieter than before.

“He came in last week with this…weird bruise near his wrist. We asked him about it. He told everyone the same story – that he’d been playing with his cousin and they both got a little rough. He seemed fine in himself – same old smiley Jakey, happy to be at nursery – so we made a note of it and didn’t take it further. But today…”

I hear Marco’s breath catch in his throat. His gaze snaps to look out the window while he composes himself. _Oh god._ Uncomfortable goose bumps prickle down my arms, dreading what he’s going to say next.

“Today there were more bruises on his forearm. Worse than before, and when it got nearer to home time he…he just sat and played by himself, which isn’t like him at all.” He’s shaking his head, like he’s still trying to process the situation as he describes it to me. He takes a deep breath before continuing. “Anyway, we reported everything to our manager and I was in a follow up meeting with them before I met you. Social services are involved now and we should hear back from them tomorrow. They told me not to dwell on it until we know all the facts. There could be a reasonable explanation. And they’re right, there could be. It could be completely innocent…Or it could be…,” he trails off.

“Could be…” I can’t bring myself to complete the sentence either.

“Yeah. We asked Jakey about it and he said it happened when he was playing with a friend last night. But those bruises…they weren’t the kind of bruises you get from bumping into friends or falling over…Finger marks if I had to guess, and I don’t think a child could have made them. In fact it looked to me like someone had dragged him round by the arm.”

“Shit. That’s fucking horrible.” My heart aches over everything he’s said. The way he talks about that kid, he cares so fucking much. “God I’m really sorry Marco. I knew something was up but I had no idea you’d been dealing with something that bad.”

“He’s such a lovely kid,” he continues, his voice strained. “He reminds me so much of myself but he’s so young and-” He sniffs sharply and I can see he’s struggling to hold it back now. “Ugh, god sorry,” he croaks, scrubbing at his left eye while a tear runs down his right cheek.

“Hey, no, don’t apologise.” God I want to hold him, to let him bury his face in the crook of my neck while I card my fingers through his hair. Instead I place my hand on his shoulder and try to ignore the horrible twist in my stomach. “It’s okay. Go on.”

Marco just shakes his head. He looks exhausted now, like anything else he wanted to say is too much effort. He draws in a breath and squares his shoulders before speaking again, resolved. “No it’s alright. Christ, I bet you didn’t bargain on all of this when you came to take me for burgers.” There’s the tiniest of smiles when he speaks and for the first time since he left work, I actually feel it’s genuine.

“Hey,” I smile, “like I said we’re band mates, we look after each other. I’ve got your back whatever’s going on, okay?”

“Okay. Thanks.” He pats the hand I’ve left on his shoulder and my heart jolts at the touch, momentarily lifting my filter.

“Listen, if Jakey’s as lovely as you say, it’s no wonder he reminds you of yourself. And whatever happens next, he's really lucky to have someone like you in his corner."

He nods pensively. I get the feeling there's something else. Something on the tip of his tongue, but it remains unsaid as he clips his seatbelt back in.

"Thanks Jean. Shall we get going? I don't want to keep you from your burger any longer."

Although the pain from our conversation is still etched on his face, his eyes look brighter and there’s a sense of relief behind them now. I feel it too. The fact that he just trusted me with something so huge hits me hard and a beautiful warmth rushes out from my chest, all the way down to the tips of my fingers.

"Yeah I don't think burgers are gonna cut it today. We need to cheer you up." The words have barely left my mouth when the perfect idea comes to me. I check my watch. _Good, we can just make it if we head off now._ “I know a place. It’s only ten minutes away if your game, though the food selection might not be the greatest.”

“Okay sure,” he says with an air of breeziness. “I don’t have much of an appetite anyway.”

___________________________________

Moments later we’re pulling up in front of (in my opinion) the most beautiful place in Trost. A grand, vast building of stone pillars and slender arched windows decked out with posters advertising the latest exhibitions. From what I understand, ‘Trost Museum of Science and History’ was built about 150 years ago by a rich, aristocratic family, who wanted a space large enough for their (rather eccentric) art collection. It became a museum a few decades ago and has been my favourite place to visit since I was a kid, though mainly for one particular feature that I’m hoping Marco will enjoy too.

“Where are we?” Marco asks as I bring the car to a stop in a parking space.

_Yes!_ I was hoping he’d never been here before. Now I get to claim the honour of being the first person to bring him. _Fuck you Floch!_ I think childishly. “You’ll see. This way.”

We hurry up the wide stone steps, slick with rainfall, and head for the main doors. “Museum?” Marco questions when he spots the gold lettering above us.

“Trust me,” I say simply, grinning at him like an idiot. He grins back with an eye-roll as if to say _alright then, whatever you say_ and I lead him through the tall doors of glass and wood. I hope any scepticism he had moments ago has vanished now that we’re walking through the impressive foyer.

The bulk of the museum has been renovated and updated to keep it modern, but the entrance is like stepping back in time. It’s the only part of the museum that’s been restored and kept as close to its original aesthetic as possible. I always find it mad to think that this was actually someone’s home. It feels more like walking through a grand Victorian arcade than a place of residence.

We’re flanked on either side by green and cream iron pillars, our footsteps echoing across the mosaic flooring - when I was little, my parents always dreaded getting me to leave because I’d spend so long hopping from tile to tile and studying the patterns. However, it’s what you see when you look up that really makes the entrance special. The curved ceiling above us is a stunning design of glass and cast iron, with large orb-shaped lights hanging down, emitting a soft glow. Rain is bouncing off the glass as we walk further inside, creating a beautiful echo of pitter-patters and drumming. I’m sucked into the majesty of it all (like always) and momentarily forget someone else is walking beside me.

It’s entirely possible that I’m on my own here - in thinking how beautiful this place is - and that Marco will be less than impressed. I really hope not. I glance at him in hopes of gauging his reaction so far and find him admiring the ornate ceiling, his eyes wide, taking everything in _. Yeah, pretty sure he’s into it._ _So far so good._

“Oh, hey do you have a quid?” I ask.

It takes him a beat to register I’ve spoken. “Hmm? Oh, yeah why?”

“Okay you’ve got to see this.” We stop at what looks like an ornamental silver sculpture of a swan in a glass cabinet. “Right, stick your money in there and crank that wheel until it stops. I’ll be back in a sec.”

I leave Marco to enjoy the automaton and head to the gift shop/ticket desk just up ahead. A lady behind the desk with silver hair and purple glasses gives me a wide smile. “Evening!” she says cheerfully.

“Hi, can I get one friend and a guest for the 5.45 show please?”

Yes, I got a lifetime membership for my 16th birthday that I may or may not have begged for. Don’t fucking judge me.

“Certainly.” I flash her my card and hand over the money.

“Thanks.” I head back over to Marco. I’m just in time to watch the finale of the swan automaton grabbing a tiny silver fish with its beak, before it settles back down to sleep and becomes a stationary sculpture once again.

“Holy shit!” Marco beams at me. “That thing is awesome! Like, I seriously thought it was alive when it first started!”

“I know right? It blew my mind when I was a kid. Should we head in?” He looks happier already. Hopefully I’m onto a winner here.

“Yeah. Oh, how much do I owe you?” he asks moving to grab his wallet from his backpack.

“Nothing, the museum’s free to get in.” Okay I’m not technically lying. The museum _is_ free to get in, it’s the extra things you have to pay for, but he doesn’t need to know that. I’m the one who dragged him here and I get discount anyway so I’m not about to ask him for money.

“Oh!” he replies cheerily. “Okay cool.”

We smile and nod at the lady in the gift shop before walking through the main archway into the body of the museum. There’s a lot to take in when you enter the first section - Natural History. Winding across the floor from one end of the room to the other is the animal parade, with a huge-ass elephant at the front leading the way. There’s a room dedicated to birds of prey on the left, an evolution display on the right and the permanent dinosaur exhibition just beyond that. Right at the back of the room I can see the aquarium that’s part of the sea life section.

Marco dives straight in and follows the animal parade like an excited child, occasionally pausing to point out an animal he loves like the ocelot and the sea otter. “Oh my god how cute is this guy?” he coos when he reaches the baby penguin at the end.

“That’s Peep,” I grin, loving the way Marco’s sunny face hasn’t stopped smiling since we got here.

“Peep?” he laughs, quirking an eyebrow.

“Yeah Peep the penguin. He’s hidden in lots of places around the museum. You’ve got to try and find them all.

“Okay. I’ll keep my peepers peeled for Peep then.”

I snort trying to stifle a laugh. “Oh my god. You’re such a dork.”

“Yeah I’m surprised you haven’t figured that out by now.” He’s smiling so wide I can see his canines, and wow, so that’s a thing. I didn’t know someone’s teeth could be so fucking cute but there they are.

“C’mon. The thing we’re here to see is on the next floor.” I lead us out to the side and up a wide, marble staircase.

“Who are Lord and Lady Fritz?” Marco asks, eyeing up the large portrait we pass on the stairs.

“They were the guys who built and lived in this place before it became a museum.”

“This used to be somebody’s house!?” he says astonished. “I assumed it was like an old town hall or university building or something, not someone’s house!”

“I know right? Rumour has it they were bat-shit-crazy and spent ridiculous amounts of money filling this place with art and sculptures. A lot of it is still used in exhibitions here. It’s this way,” I motion when Marco reaches the top of the stairs just before me. We cut through the Ancient Civilizations exhibit at a brisk place. There’s only a few minutes to go and I want to get a good seat.

“Aw they’ve got an Ancient Greece section!” Marco exclaims, stopping at a replica sculpture of Perseus and Medusa. I stop and back track. I feel a bit guilty dragging him away from something he’s excited about.

“Um…is it okay if we take a look afterwards? The thing we’re here to see starts in a couple of minutes.”

“Yeah sure. Sorry, I’m a bit of a nerd when it comes to Greek mythology,” he says sheepishly, falling back into step beside me.

“I could never wrap my head around who was who,” I admit. “Like, didn’t the gods basically just spend their time banging anything that moved and getting into fights?”

Marco chuckles this beautiful, musical laugh. “I know what you mean. Their family tree is just once big incestuous mess. Most of them descended from Zeus though. He had the hardest time keeping it in his pants.”

We’re both laughing when we finally reach the entrance for the planetarium. Luckily the queue is short and people are moving past the guy checking tickets fairly quickly.

“Is this what we’re here for?” Marco asks as we join the queue. I can’t quite read his tone of voice and get a bit nervous.

“Yeah, if that’s okay. I mean, we can go look at the other exhibitions if you’re not-”

“No no no!” he cuts me off. “This is great. I’ve always wanted to go to a planetarium! I had no idea there was one in Trost.”

_Oh thank fuck_. “Yeah they have a show every morning and evening here during the week. More at weekends.”

“You been here a lot then?” At first I think he’s taking the piss out of me (which I wouldn’t mind) but his smile is completely genuine.

“Okay full disclosure, saying as you’ve admitted you’re a total nerd for anything Greek, I might as well tell you I’m a bit of a space nerd.”

He laughs as we pass the guy checking tickets. “I knew you couldn’t really be as cool as you seem.”

_Wait what?? He thinks I’m cool!? Cool enough to leave his boyfriend for? Cool enough to eat my face as soon as the lights go down in here?_

( _Okay seriously stop)_

“Hey I am cool!” I protest. “I just also happen to love space, though more specifically, the stars and constellations.”

We grab a couple of empty seats in the middle row. It’s not too busy with it being a weeknight thankfully.

“You’d love Jinae,” Marco states, turning to look at me. “You only have to travel out a tiny bit to get a good view of the night sky. I imagine it’s quite tricky to do that in Trost.”

“Yeah the light pollution here sucks balls. I’ve dragged Connie on a couple of late-night drives to Krolva up north where there’s less light pollution, but I haven’t been there for a few years. Coming here is the next best thing.”

“We’ll have to take a drive up then.”

_Holy shit he wants take a drive with me!_ “Yeah?”

“Yeah like a band road trip or something.” _Oh._

The soft lights start to flicker off signalling the show is about to start. I still get the same excited butterflies I got as a kid. This place has always felt like my own little sanctuary; a place where everything outside ceases to exist and I can just immerse myself in the majesty of the universe.

Our narrator for the evening introduces herself and starts, like always, with a brief explanation of day and night and the Earth’s rotation, before diving into the night sky. The projection above us goes black and then, one by one, the stars appear until the sky is filled to the brim, the haze of the Milky Way stretching out above us.

Without moving my head, I sneak a side glance at Marco to see if he’s enjoying it, but I just end up admiring his profile instead - the slope of his nose, the curve of his lips, his strong jawline. God he really is gorgeous, even more so when his eyes are sparkling with the reflection of all the stars above us.

He shifts a little in his seat, snapping me out of my dreamy state. I pay attention to our narrator, as we’re just getting to my favourite bit – the constellations. They talk us through how to find Ursa Major and Polaris, and then give us an overview of the key constellations for different seasons- from Orion in Winter, through to Cygnus and the summer triangle.

"Cygnus, I like that story," Marco whispers.

"Hmm?"

He shifts slightly and leans in close to me, so close I can feel his breath on my cheek. I hope he doesn't hear me gulp. "So in Greek mythology, this guy Cygnus was the best friend and lover of Apollo's son Phaeton."

_I like where this is going._

"After Phaeton fell from his father's sun chariot and died, Cygnus went to the river where he fell. He was so distraught, Apollo transformed him into a mute swan so that he wouldn't have to listen to him crying. Although another version of the story says Zeus transformed Cygnus so he could dive down to retrieve Phaeton's body. I like the first version better."

The words 'best friend and lover' are still ringing in my ears when he stops speaking and all I can manage in response is, "Hmm."

"Sorry. I did warn you I was a mythology nerd."

I stifle a giggle as best as I can, not wanting to piss off my fellow astronomy lovers. "No I think it's great, I've never heard that story before. You'll have to tell me the stories behind the other constellations some time."

"Yeah," he agrees, so quietly I barely hear him. "You tell me their names and I'll tell you the myth."

I'm struck with a vision of myself and Marco, holding hands, lying on our backs and gazing up at the stars. Me drawing lines across the sky as he describes ancient tales of love and war. _Shit_. I've been staring longingly at his profile again.

Ugh, this really isn't fair. How the hell am I supposed to get over this crush when he keeps being so adorable? _You're supposed to be noticing things that annoy you, not finding out more reasons to like him!_

Our narrator takes us through the planets of the solar system next, before delving into deep space, the ceiling above bursting with the lights and colours of distant stars, galaxies and nebulas.

"Holy shit," Marco whispers, when a particularly stunning picture of the Eagle Nebula zooms into view, making me smile. Knowing he's enjoying this is, on the one hand, making me so happy I could burst, but on the other, filling me with a wonderful sense of calm. I guess I was really nervous earlier, not knowing how he would react to this place, but now I know he's into it I can just relax and enjoy his company.

Finally, we all head back down to Earth with a brief explanation of the planet’s magnetism and the Northern Lights.

"Aurora borealis," I sigh. Oh god. Oh fucking god _._

_Please tell me you did not just do your Superintendent Chalmers voice!_

Oh my god, it just slipped out.

_Marco’s gonna think you're a fucking fruit loop!_

Oh crap he's turning this way.

I'm just about to pray for a black hole to swallow me up when I realise he's smiling. _Is the darkness not just playing tricks on you?_ No he's definitely smiling!

"At this time of year."

...Holy shit. Did he just quote it back to me!?

"At this time of day."

"In this part of the country."

"Localised entirely in your kitchen."

We both start spluttering like a couple of idiots and break into a fit of wheezy giggles.

"Shh!" I hear someone utter sharply somewhere behind me and I curl over myself to try and stop. My chest and throat are aching from the effort of holding back but I'll be damned if I get us kicked out of here! Marco's just as bad, hissing laughter through clenched teeth and wiping at his eyes.

I've just got myself under control when he mutters, "May I see it?" and the whole fiasco starts over, except this time I smack him hard on the arm for making me laugh.

"Ow you dick!" he hisses, jostling me in the shoulder.

"If you get us kicked out of here, I'll never forgive you."

At the end of the show we take a couple minutes to let our eyes readjust and then head back into the museum, still high from our giggle fit.

“I can’t believe you hit me,” he says sticking out his bottom lip and rubbing his arm dramatically.

“Hey I’ve been coming here for years, I’m not about to get myself banned.”

"In my defence, you started it," Marco argues.

"In _my_ defence I had no idea you we're going to quote The Simpsons right back at me!"

"Dude I was born in the 90s, how could I not be a Simpsons kid?"

"Okay fair point."

We still have a bit of time left and drift back over towards the Ancient Greece section so Marco can explore a little more. He points out a couple of sculptures and information boards that link to some of the constellations we just heard about. I love how enthused he is by everything around him, the way his eyes light up and how his hands animatedly move around while he’s describing something. I honestly think I could stare at him forever right now. I wish time would stop so I could look at him as long as I want without fear of giving myself away.

___________________________________

On our way back downstairs, Marco mentions his appetite is back, so we decide to go grab a couple of Subways on the way to band practise. We're just strolling back through the entrance hall when I sense him slowing next to me.

"Jean?"

"Yeah?" I slow down and match his pace.

"Do you still have our ticket stubs from the planetarium?"

Where is this going? "Yeah why?"

"Could I, err, have mine? I like to keep things like that. Y'know, like keepsakes."

_Ohmygod ohmygod he wants to keep the ticket!_

"Oh! Y-yeah of course," I stammer, fishing the stubs out of my back pocket. "Here."

"Cheers," he smiles pleasantly, taking the ticket and admiring the galaxy design on the front. But then his brow furrows and his lips tighten. "Jean."

Oh god what now. "Yeah?" I ask nervously.

He gives me a half grin with one eyebrow cocked. "You told me it was free."

Oh. Crap. "Okay technically speaking, the museum _is_ free so I didn't exactly lie to you."

"C'mon you know what I mean. Let me give you the money." He starts opening his backpack.

"No!" I say startling us both. Marco freezes and blinks a couple of times before I remember how to form sentences. “Honestly it’s fine. It was my idea to come here and I get discount anyway.” His rummaging hands pause and I can tell he’s struggling with what to do. “Seriously put your money away.” And then I add boldly, “You can pay the next time we come.”

His face softens and breaks out into a coy smile. _Holy shit that’s cute._ “Alright then, I’ll get the next one.”

“Good.”

I push the door open, holding it so Marco can follow me. Thankfully it’s stopped raining so we don’t have to run to the car for cover.

“How come you get discount then?” he asks as we walk side by side.

“Oh, erm, I have a lifetime membership so I get in free and I get a discount for guests.”

“Wow,” he smiles teasingly, “you really are a giant space nerd.”

“Hey! Brian May is a frickin’ astrophysicist and he’s cool as fuck!”

“Fair enough, I take it back.”

___________________________________

Practise goes well, ridiculously well actually. We’re all on top form, the excitement and anticipation for Friday’s gig clearly helping to motivate us, but it’s Marco who especially stands out. I really wasn’t expecting anything special from him tonight, considering the day he’s had, but he’s fucking nailing it.

In the space of just a week, he’s not just learnt the songs but knows them inside out, his fingers moving effortlessly as he bops about with a cheeky smirk. In fact, it’s more than simply knowing the songs well, he’s started making them his own, adding little flourishes here and there that really elevate the bass in certain sections. And I love that he feels comfortable enough with us to do that. And I love how carefree and confident he is with that bass in his hand.

Honestly, I’m glad I have my guitar to keep my fingers busy because I want to touch him so badly it hurts. And not even in _that_ way, I just want to smooth out the ripples on his shirt or sweep away the lock of hair that keeps falling in front of his eyes. Although, watching the way he handles his bass, I’d be lying if I said my mind didn’t flash back to that first dream and how he’d handled me.

“Oh hey I meant to ask,” he chirps, absentmindedly plucking a melody. “Do I have to wear anything specific for the gig?”

“I thought Connie told you?” Eren says seriously.

Connie and I exchange a glance, knowing something ridiculous is coming.

“We always wear matching black shorts and leather harnesses.”

_Do not imagine Marco in a leather harness. Do not imagine Marco in a leather harness. Do not-_ Oh fuck.

I have to force myself to start laughing so that I don’t seem odd. Hopefully, that will also cover for the blush all over my face.

“Ha! Okay but, just in case I can’t find my leather harness, is there anything else I should wear?”

“Nah anything you want really. I mean, we smarten ourselves up to an extent but nothing major,” Eren says, letting his long hair down and redoing his man-bun.

Marco nods. “Okely dokely,” he replies with a grin in my direction. I chew my lip to stop myself smiling too wide and shake my head.

We run through one last song before calling it quits and gathering up our things. I zip up my guitar case next to Marco.

“So you feeling alright about Friday night?” I ask.

“Yeah good! I’m really looking forward to it actually,” he beams. “Been ages since I played a gig, and I think I’ve got the hang of all your songs now.”

“More than just ‘got the hang of’ I’d say mate.” He smiles sheepishly.

“Jean?” Eren calls from behind me. “Are you alright giving Marco a lift tonight? I’m going straight to Armin and Mikasa’s from here.”

“Oh. It’s alright you don’t have-” Marco tries to interject.

“Don’t be daft it’s no bother. Course I’ll give you a lift.” I’m kind of curious to see where he lives. Plus I get to enjoy his company for a bit longer.

“Cool. Later!” Eren calls as he rushes off.

The three of us finish packing up and head out. I lock up and smile as I swing my guitar over my shoulder. It’s been a strange old day, but also really enjoyable. Everything I’ve done with Marco has made me feel so much closer to him. I really feel like we’re friends now. I hope he feels the same. It kind of sucks that the day’s over to be honest. As glad as I am to be driving him home, I don’t really want him to go. I’ll just have to savour the car journey.

We cross the road and head towards my mini. I’ve just pressed the unlock button when I notice someone walking towards us out the corner of my eye.

“Marco!”

_…Oh you have got to be fucking kidding me._

“Oh! Hey! What’re you doing here?” he beams.

Fucking Floch. _Why god why!?_

“Hi guys,” he says, briefly looking at me and Connie. He sweeps Marco into a hug. “I dunno. You sounded a bit down in the dumps in your voicemail, so I thought I’d come cheer you up.”

_Well too late Bird’s Nest because I’ve already cheered him up! He’s fine now so you can just fuck off back home!_

“Aww okay,” Marco says, the sweetest smile spreading across his face.

Fuck that hurts to look at.

“Shall we go?” Floch asks grabbing his hand. “I’m just parked a bit further down the road.”

“Yeah okay. I’ll see you guys Friday okay?” Marco says turning towards us.

I try my hardest to keep my voice as even as possible, “Okay see you Friday.”

“Alright see ya!” Connie adds cheerfully, sliding into the passenger seat.

I stalk around the front of the car and flop down on the driver’s seat, pulling the door closed harshly beside me.

“What’s up with you?” Connie asks, confused by my angry door slamming.

“Nothing…I dunno…I just don’t like that Floch guy.” I start the engine and buckle my seatbelt.

“What? Why?”

“I dunno he’s a bit smarmy. I don’t trust him. I think Marco can do better.”

“The guy just surprised his boyfriend ‘cos he thought he needed cheering up. How much better do you want him to be? I mean, he’s got terrible taste in music and a major boner for Phil Collins, but he seems an alright guy.”

My anger dissolves a little at the boner comment. “Exactly, how can you trust a guy who has a major boner for Phil Collins?”

We both chuckle and Connie starts singing ‘In the Air Tonight’. When he reaches ‘Oh Lord’, he sings it in a positively orgasmic voice and pretends to hide his hard-on. I am fucking howling.

“Don’t fucking crash!” he yells.

“It’s your fault!” I screech, wiping a tear from my eye. “Oh god, you do realise that’s all I’ll be able to picture the next time I see him?”

“Hahaha. Aw man, maybe Marco could do better.”

It feels good hearing it from Connie, but I know I’m just letting the green-eyed monster get the better of me.

“I dunno. He seems happy with him I guess.” And that’s the problem I suppose. It would be easier if he didn’t seem happy, if something was blatantly amiss, but it isn’t. Marco really does seem happy with Floch. My stomach drops at the thought, but luckily Connie ‘Ass-hat’ Springer is here to save me when he starts singing ‘Another Day in Paradise’ with new lyrics about Floch masturbating.

I’m laughing so hard, I genuinely don’t know how we make it home in one piece.

___________________________________

Connie and I arrive at the bar around 7.00 on Friday. We’re not on until 9.00 so plenty of time to set up the stage and have a drink. My mam’s already here, sitting at the bar and chatting with Connie’s parents. She always makes the effort to come to our gigs. I used to find it embarrassing but I’ve grown to appreciate it.

After my dad left, if she could find a way to support me and be there, she’d do it. She still hasn’t stopped I guess. I spent a long time trying to push her away, but she never gave up. I really regret that now. I lashed out at her a lot, blamed her and blamed myself for dad leaving when I should have blamed him. Our relationship’s still not perfect, but it’s definitely better than it was.

“Hello sweetheart!” she gushes, jumping off her stool and tottering towards me with her arms outstretched.

“Hi Mam,” I return with a hug. Even with heels on, her head barely reaches my shoulder.

“Ooooh your hair looks lovely!” she says taking my face in her hands and tilting me from side to side. “Very nice. My handsome boy.”

I give an embarrassed snort. Luckily, she then spots Connie and releases me to go pester him.

“And there’s my other handsome boy!”

“Hey Mrs K.” Connie laughs, squeezing her back.

Connie and I head out to grab more parts of the drumkit. Eren and Marco are both working until half 7 so we’re not expecting them any time soon, which is a bit annoying because that means there’s only two of us to carry everything from Connie’s van. Connie’s dad offers to help and we both take great delight in flexing our muscles to convince him we don’t need it.

“Honestly, you two have never changed,” Connie’s mam smiles rolling her eyes.

“Still as daft as ever,” my mam adds.

We go get changed out of our sloppy t-shirts when we’re done with the heavy lifting. I decided to keep it simple with black skinny jeans and a roll sleeve, light denim shirt with tiny dark denim skulls on. Connie’s made the effort too, looking good in his red plaid shirt.

“Sasha still coming?”

“Yeah as far as I know,” he smiles. “She text me yesterday asking what time she should be here.”

That’s a good sign. She could have easily found that out from Mikasa or Armin but she chose to text Connie. “That’s good. Have you spoken much since Monday?”

“A little bit yeah, so hopefully things will be less awkward when I see her.”

“It’ll be fine,” I say, giving him my best reassuring smile.

We help out (i.e. mess around) behind the bar for a while until a few familiar faces start appearing.

“Hey guys!” Armin smiles bounding over to us. _Oh god_. It hits me that I haven’t seen them since I kissed them last weekend. I still feel really guilty about it.

“Woah! You look awesome! Nice hair!” Connie gushes.

Shit, they really do look good. And just thinking that increases my guilt ten-fold. They’re wearing an oversized Nirvana t-shirt with leopard print jeans and they’ve had their hair done. It’s chopped a bit shorter and bleached lighter. It really suits them.

“Thanks!” they beam, sweeping a hand through their fringe. “You had your hair cut too Jean?” they ask, turning towards me. “Really suits you!”

_Oh no, please don’t compliment me. It’s the last thing I deserve._

The comment does make me feel good though, I can’t help it. My hairdresser tidied up my undercut but convinced me to keep the top long so it’s still flopping in front of my eyes a little. I like it - it’s kinda fun having hair long enough to mess about with. “T-Thanks,” I stammer, offering Armin a smile that I hope doesn’t look forced.

“A-hem! Is anyone gonna comment on how fucking beautiful I look please!?” Connie scoffs with an over-the-top frowny face.

That sets Armin off laughing. “Sorry Con. I thought it went without saying how gorgeous you look.”

“I mean it does, but I still want you to say it!”

Mikasa joins us with drinks for her and Armin.

“Hey guys. You doing alright?” she asks, looking gorgeous as ever in a little black dress and biker boots.

“Yeah good thanks. Is it just you and Armin?” Connie asks. No prizes for guessing which person he’s trying to establish is here or not.

“Historia, Sasha and Ymir should be here soon,” Mikasa replies with a sly smile. She knows exactly what Connie’s getting at. “Are Eren and Marco still not here?”

“No, hopefully soon though,” I shrug.

“I hope Marco has enough time to get ready. I offered to cover the end of his shift but he said he needs the money,” Armin adds with a look that’s almost apologetic.

I can still barely look them in the eye. I know I need to just get over it and stop making things weird but I feel shitty about what I did.

“Oh, Historia’s here,” Mikasa interjects. Sure enough, Historia’s making her way to the bar with Ymir and Sasha laughing behind her. “C’mon,” Mikasa says grabbing Connie’s hand and dragging him with her before he has the chance to chicken out.

I’m about to follow them when I feel a gentle tug on my shirt. Armin’s looking at me when I turn, their sweet face full of concern.

“Are you okay?” they ask with furrowed eyebrows.

“Y-yeah. Sorry…I just-”

“You’re still beating yourself up over what happened aren’t you?”

“…Maybe.”

“Jean look at me.” they say taking my hand. I force myself to look at their ocean blue eyes, which are so full of affection it hurts. “I told you. There’s nothing to be sorry for. You’re still one of my best friends so,” they start smiling, “get the fuck over it.”

The corners of my lips start to tug upwards, unable to help themselves. I laugh through my nose, before squeezing their hand and looking back. “Okay, I’ll work on it. Sorry”

“And stop apologising! C’mon let’s go join the others.”

Armin turns and tugs my hand. I’m about to follow them when I spot Marco walking towards us. It feels like my entire torso has just flipped over. “Oh hey!” Armin says taking a step forward to greet him.

Marco looks a little awkward, and I’m not sure why until I realise Armin and I are still holding hands. His eyes dart between us with a frozen smile, like he’s trying to work something out, but it melts as Armin let’s go to embrace him in a big hug. “Hey how’s it going?” he says over Armin’s shoulder to both of us.

I take full advantage of the fact that he’s just hugged Armin and go in for one myself. “Hey man,” I grin, patting him on the back. It doesn’t last long, but it’s long enough for me to feel how warm and solid he is.

I take a step back and finally get to take in how frickin’ gorgeous he looks right now. He’s teamed his skinny black jeans and boots with a black shirt covered in tiny polka dots. It’s not very fitted, the soft fabric just sort of hangs off his broad shoulders but it really suits him. Actually, he looks cool as fuck.

I guess I must’ve stared at him a little obviously, because he’s blushing slightly when my eyes meet his. _Oops._

“Your, err, your hair looks really nice. You had it cut?”

Okay, my inner schoolgirl should not be screaming this loud from a simple compliment, but it is so fuck it.

“Yeah thanks. Decided to do something a little different.”

“It’s like picture day at school!” Armin laughs. “I’m sure Eren was getting his hair cut for the occasion as well.”

The three of us head over to the bar where everyone else has gathered. Connie and Sasha aren’t exactly talking but they’re part of the same conversation with Historia, so I guess that’s a good sign. We join them after Connie’s dad sorts us out with some drinks. It’s at that moment that the juke box decides to play ‘You Can’t Hurry Love’ by Phil Collins. Mine and Connie’s eyes find each other instantly and I have to hide my face behind my drink to stop laughing.

“Is Floch coming tonight?” Connie asks Marco with a shit-eating grin. _I swear I’ll murder you if you make me laugh!_

“Err yeah! He should be here later on. He said he might be a bit late.”

Marco doesn’t say why, but I can’t help feeling like that’s a bit shit of Floch. I know I don’t like the guy so I’m completely biased but this is Marco’s first gig. He should be here. Plus there’s something in Marco’s expression that…I don’t know, something feels amiss.

I don’t get time to dwell on it though, because then he turns to me, speaking quietly so that only I can hear.

“I meant to say on Wednesday, thanks for the planetarium. It really helped take my mind off things.”

“Oh. No worries. I’m glad it helped.” The way he’s looking at me right now makes my mouth go dry. “How have things been? At work?”

He nods gently whilst taking a sip of his drink. “Mmm, not bad thanks.”

Oh god. Please don’t look at me with those heavy eyes. Please don’t let me move any closer. Please don’t let me think about kissing the sorrow from your lips. I have to put my hands in my pockets to stop myself from wrapping my arms around him.

“Well listen. Anytime you need a break or a distraction or…anything, I’m here okay.”

“Okay. Thanks Jean.”

My breath catches in my throat and my heart stops dead. How can hearing my name in his voice do this to me?

___________________________________

Eren finally arrives (his hair down and freshly trimmed like Armin said) just as we’re finishing our second round of drinks. It’s almost showtime so we spend a few minutes setting things up on stage, surrounded by noisy chatter and laughter from the bar. The atmosphere feels good in here tonight and I am so fucking ready for this. Everyone quietens at the sound of guitar distortion, the anticipation in me bursting at the seams. I glance around to check we're all ready. Eren gives me a nod and I start.

There’s a few whoops and whistles as I sing the opening bars of 'All the Rage', trying hard to keep my voice at about 20 percent despite the adrenaline kicking in. I sense it from my band mates too, curling and uncurling their fingers next to me, eagerly awaiting their cue.

_'And she swore love has never come so easily And we went over again, my head about, oh the feeling'_

We fucking slam into the next bar and I belt out the lyrics with more energy, channelling everything into playing. People start swaying and dancing, getting into the spirit right along with us. Eren and Connie are both sporting huge cheeky grins when I twist round to catch my breath. And as for Marco, there is not one speck of apprehension on the guy's face. He looks so at ease, drawing energy from the crowd and bopping about.

Fuck I've missed this. Playing to a room full of people, watching the excitement and enjoyment ripple through everyone and the rush of knowing we are the cause. Yes the vast majority of the crowd are regulars and our closest friends but for me, there's more depth, more meaning to the gig this way. My friends give so much to me, to all of us. If we can repay them in some small way by giving them a good night and fun memories, then that's all the better.

I lead us into the last chorus, enjoying Eren's voice adding another layer to the melody.

_'I keep falling, maybe half the time, maybe half the time But it's all the rage back home Yeah, it's all the rage back home.'_

The applause and whistles start just as we finish and I take the opportunity to introduce everyone in the band, saving Marco for last.

"And this new sexy muthafucker on bass is Marco," I say smirking at the fact that, on stage, I can get away with saying whatever I want. And if anyone asks, it’s just showmanship.

There's a few whoops and an extremely loud wolf whistle from Historia. Marco laps it up, giving her a wink and a sly smile. Jesus, the swagger on this guy! It's really fucking hot. _Focus Jean! You have another song to play!_ I introduce the next track and we dive straight back in.

___________________________________

About halfway through our set, I notice Floch has finally decided to make an appearance. I spot his stupid haircut at the bar. It pisses me off that he's late. I know it shouldn't and I know he could have a genuine excuse, but-

_No. Stop. Stop with this jealous bullshit or it's going to affect your playing. Just pretend he's not there._

This approach works for all of five minutes. By the time we start our next song, he's shuffled closer to the front and is saying hello to Armin and Sasha. He must remember them from Eren’s party. I guess they remember him too based on the polite chatter I can just about see through the glare of the stage lights. Okay, fine. Nothing wrong with that, but it’s what happens next that really fucks me off.

Armin and Sasha turn their attention back to the stage to, you know, enjoy the show and show their support, like normal people! Floch on the other hand lasts approximately 10 seconds before he digs his phone out of his pocket. At first I figure, okay he’s got a text or he’s got a call and he’s sending it to voicemail, but he doesn’t put his phone away.

_Seriously? Are you fucking kidding me?? Stop scrolling through Instagram or wherever the fuck you're doing and watch your fucking boyfriend you dick!!_

My blood’s boiling. I don’t want anything to knock Marco’s confidence when he’s doing so well. However, if Marco’s noticed what Floch is doing, he certainly isn’t showing it when I look to my left to check on him. He’s still playing his heart out, lapping up the attention from the audience. I feel better knowing he’s unaffected. Actually, I feel better just looking at him. He gives me a cheeky side grin before continuing to nod along with the music, his dark hair flopping about in front of his face. God…he’s sexy as hell right now.

I return his smile with one of my own, wishing that I could just tell him - Your boyfriend may not appreciate you, but I fucking do. I appreciate how much your nailing every track so far, how much effort you’ve put into learning all of our songs, how I keep catching you smiling at me, how the muscles of your forearms tense and flex with every note…

_‘He found a lonely sound’_

What the actual fuck!?? _Please tell me you did not just say he! Oh fucking hell you did! You said he! Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck!_

I don’t think Marco notices but I’m pretty sure Eren’s just given me a confused look.

_‘ **She** keeps on waitin' for time out there Oh love, can you love me babe? Love, is this loving babe? Is time turning around?’_

I concentrate hard on getting the next bunch pronouns right, deciding that if Eren says anything I’ll just plead ignorance. It’s fine, just a slip of the tongue, no big deal. Except it feels like a big deal. _Shit_. I need to reign this in. I’m getting far too carried away with this crush. My feelings are starting to run too deep.

_Oh no._ My chest clenches uncomfortably, knowing the lyrics I have to sing next.

_‘Inside my bedroom baby Touch me, oh tonight Poses we'll make soon Will reveal our sense of right’_

It hurts knowing how much I want this with Marco but can’t have it.

_‘You should be in my space You should be in my life You could be in my space’_

My own goddamn lyrics are trapping my heart in a chokehold, losing their original meaning, twisting around my thoughts and merging with them, creating something new. I strum the last few notes of the song, then turn to grab a drink from my water bottle before the next song, not daring to look at Marco.

"You good?" Eren asks with a cocked eyebrow.

I nod between gulps and have a word with myself.

_Snap the fuck out of it. There'll be plenty of time to mull your feelings over later. Get your head back in the game and remember this is what you love doing. There's a bar full of people here to see you. Are you really gonna let them down with a half-arsed performance because you can't sort your head out? Do you really want to do that to Eren? Connie? Marco? No, so cut the shit and go play your heart out._

___________________________________

I manage to get through the rest of the set without any more lyrical mishaps. Despite my slight panic in the middle, the rest of the gig goes insanely well and I'm high as a kite by the time we reach our last song.

I offer our thanks to the audience and we walk off stage to a pretty rapturous round of applause. Well, as rapturous as you can get in a small bar in Trost. We head through the staff area and straight out the back door to catch a breather.

"Yes! This fucking guy!" Connie squeals jumping on Marco's back. Marco chuckles and his hands instinctively move to hold Connie's arms, which are wrapped around his chest and shoulders. "Great job man seriously. Fucking awesome gig!"

Eren offers me and hand slap and then pulls me into a hug. He doesn't say anything, he doesn't need to, his huge grin says it all. Connie jumps on me next and plants a big wet kiss on my cheek. Usually I'd tell him to fuck off, but I'm still buzzing with adrenaline and just laugh instead.

"Congrats Marco. Got through your first gig with the 104th," Eren says pulling Marco into a side hug. Marco's face is a picture. Like he's stunned, but he can't stop smiling.

"Yeah man seriously," I add. "That was one of the best gigs we've played." A pink blush spreads across his cheeks and I try my hardest not to find it cute.

Connie jumps on Eren next and they tussle about playfully. "Alright, let's go get shitfaced!" Connie shouts, leading the way back to the bar.

___________________________________

We're bombarded with hugs from everyone when we head back in. Mikasa and Armin have been kind enough to order some drinks for us, so we don't have to push our way to the bar, which is heaving now the gig is over. Definitely a good sign. You know you’ve had a good gig when people purposely delay getting more alcohol.

I have a good catch up with everyone and manage to avoid Floch for the most part. I also get to thank Ymir in person for giving me and Connie a good laugh at Eld’s expense with her cheek dick. Her and Historia seems very affectionate with each other, which I find odd as I’m sure last weekend was the first time they met. I feel like an absolute idiot when Eren informs me they’ve started dating.

“What! Really?” I ask stunned.

“Yeah man. I found them in Marlowe’s bed the morning after the party!”

“Oh my god! Were they-”

“No no no,” Eren laughs. “They were just sleeping.”

“Sooo…are you, like…okay with that then?” Connie asks Eren. He and Historia have hooked up a few times over the years. They’ve always kept it casual as far as I know but he doesn’t really talk about it.

“Hmm? Oh! Yeah! God yeah. We haven’t slept together for ages.”

Oh well. Guess that’s that then. I look over at Ymir. Funny, I would never have put her with Historia, but they do seem genuinely fond of each other.

“Alright?” Marco appears at my side. _Speaking of fond._

“Hey,” I say trying to stay calm while the butterflies in my stomach start doing backflips. I’m really glad I have Connie and Eren to focus on instead.

"Oh by the way. Me an' Armin are having at gaming night at mine tomorrow if you fancy it?" Eren asks us all.

“We're both working," Connie says with a sigh. Unless someone wants the overtime, we nearly always work the Saturday after our gig because of having to swap our Friday shifts.

"Oh yeah," Eren says apologetically. "Well, we'll probably still be up when you've finished if you fancy it. You free Marco?"

"No sorry. My mum's on night shift so I'm stuck babysitting my sister."

Babysitting? I thought his sister would be way past the need for that. "How old is she?" I ask.

"She's fifteen but we've been having...problems with her recently so my mum doesn't want to leave her alone."

I think back to when I was 15, when my dad had just left. I was getting into fights (usually with Eren) and just generally angry at the world all the time. I bet my mam often wished there was another family member around to look out for me.

I nod before sipping my drink, in a way that I hope says _I get it_.

"Connie!" Historia interjects suddenly, squeezing next to us. "Your mam needs to borrow you for a second."

"Me? What for?" Connie asks, a very typical look of confusion plastered across his face.

Historia rolls her eyes, irritated, "Just c'mon will you!" she snaps grabbing his forearm and dragging him away.

He gives me a _I dunno_ look and then immediately goes, "Ohhh!" like the penny has just dropped. "I get you. C'mon then,” he says following Historia.

_What the hell was that all about?_ I turn to Eren but he just shrugs.

My eyes travel the bar searching for Connie. I assumed Historia needed him for something to do with Sasha, but then I spot him disappearing through the staff door with Historia, his mam and _my_ mam in tow. _Well that’s a bit fucking weird._ I'm about to ask Eren and Marco what they think but they’ve started up a new conversation about which games Eren's currently playing.

“Here babe.” I turn to find Floch, sidling up next to Marco side with a drink. _Ugh._ I conveniently announce I need to go for a piss and stroll off towards the toilets.

I’m just finishing up with the hand dryer when a noise makes my head snap towards the door. I could swear I just heard the hum of a guitar being plugged in. _Christ is Eren taking requests? Oh I swear to god if some drunk idiot has grabbed my guitar-!_

I fling the door open ready to kick some arse and a million things happen at once.

_What the fu-_

Everyone’s cheering and clapping as they look in my direction. There’s music playing. I look up to find Eren, Connie and Marco are back on stage. Then I spot what I think are sparklers moving forward from the bar.

_No seriously what the fuck?_

Eren’s singing. _Why the hell is Eren singing Johnny Cash?_

But then I see where the sparklers are coming from and everything clicks into place.

_Oh my god._

My mam and Connie’s parents are wheeling a table carrying a cake shaped like a fire engine. The candles on top spell out ‘Congratulations.’

My initial reaction is to be furious.

_Who in the hell decided to tell everyone!?_

But then I remember last weekend and the fact that I decided to tell everyone, because pretty much everyone knows anyway. And then all I feel is disbelief. Disbelief that anyone would actually go to all this trouble for me.

“Wha- …How…?” I jabber.

Historia and Sasha both push their way towards me and take my hands, tugging me forward and out of my daze.

“Sorry, we couldn’t resist,” one of them says next to me.

I can’t take it all in. Who got me the cake? When did they plan everything? How many people were in on this? A wave washes over me as I gawk at everyone. I don’t even know how to describe it. I just feel so…loved. It’s the only word I can think of.

_Don’t cry. Don’t you fucking dare cry._

I free one of my hands from Sasha and pinch the bridge of my nose and scrunch my eyes shut, which just about puts a stopper in the tears I can feel trying to escape. I get myself under control, but it’s that unreliable kind of control that will betray me the second somebody says something too nice to me.

“C’mon then, blow out the candles!” my mam says gleefully.

“And make a wish!” Historia squeaks next to me.

I chuckle, shaking my head in disbelief. “It’s not my birthday.”

“Doesn’t matter! If you’re blowing out candles you have to make a wish!”

Connie’s started a drumroll in anticipation of me doing just that. He’s grinning like a total dork when I look up. Eren too. And Marco…his smile is so wide and genuine that, at least for a second, I can convince myself there’s real affection and tenderness behind his eyes.

I look back at the candles…what to wish for? I’m torn between two ideas – something real and something fanciful. Connie’s drumming grows louder and quicker. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. There’s a clash and a cheer as I blow them all out. My mind flashes back to all my birthday parties as a kid. As if I’m doing this again aged twenty-four! Though despite how ridiculous I feel, I can’t help returning the hugs from my mam and Connie’s parents.

My bandmates go straight into another song. I immediately recognise the opening riff of ‘Smoke on the water’. Christ, first ‘Ring of fire’ and now this. No prizes for guessing what the theme is!

I move in closer to inspect the cake. There’s two firemen hanging out the windows on either side of the truck and one stood next to them with a hose – the puddles of water spelling out _Jean_. There’s one more at the front with his helmet tucked under his arm, hand on hip, standing proud. I’m guessing that’s supposed to be me, judging by the eerily accurate hair they’ve given him.

An arm wraps gently around my shoulders. “You’re not mad at us are you sweetheart?” my mam asks.

I look at her and narrow my eyes with a pretend scowl. “No, I suppose not.” She squeezes me closer, the side of her head squishing against my upper arm.

“It was all Sasha and Historia’s idea y’know? You’ve got some lovely friends Jean.”

_Sasha and Historia?_ I look over at them both, helping Connie’s mam take out the candles so they can start cutting up the cake. My mind yells _Honestly, what’re they like?_ but I also want to hug them both so much right now. I thought I’d hate people making a big deal out of my new job because of the pressure it would put on me, but actually I just feel more determined to do well and prove myself.

“Right c’mon, you’re not letting us do all the work!”

Suddenly I’m being swept away from my mam and onto the stage by Eren. Marco watches me with a big goofy grin and holds out my guitar for me.

“We’re you all in on this?” I ask, taking it from him.

“Yeah. Eren told us all about it on Tuesday night. Well done on getting in, that’s amazing.”

It’s not his fault. He can’t possibly know what that smile is doing to me, but does he really have to look so fucking cute right now?

“Thanks,” I mutter, giving him a side smirk. “Okay, what’s next on the fire playlist then? And may I remind you that the ban on ‘Sex is on fire’ still stands firm’ so don’t even think about it,” I say in mock annoyance.

“D’you still know all the words to ‘Fire Water Burn’?” Connie grins, knowing fine well that I do. We we’re both singing along to it in Connie’s van only a couple of weeks ago.

“Obviously.”

Connie counts us in and we start. I change the lyrics ‘Jimmy Pop’ to my own name (I am a dumb white guy in fairness), and everyone joins in on the chorus. It’s both ridiculous and hilarious. By the end of the song, my face is actually aching from smiling so much.

___________________________________

After a few more fire-related requests, we stick the jukebox back on and re-join the collective. I decide it’s best to avoid Marco where possible, especially now that Floch has attached himself to him like a limpet. My feelings have been all over the place tonight and, with the alcohol starting to kick in, I’m worried I’ll say something stupid.

I’m having a nice chat with Connie’s dad, setting the world to rights, when my mam comes over to say she’s going home.

“I’m heading off darling. I’ll turn into a pumpkin if I don’t get home before midnight!” she smiles, pulling me down for a hug.

“How you getting home?”

She smiles at my concern. “I’ve got a taxi waiting outside, I’ll be alright. Have you had a good night?”

“Yeah…Thank you.”

“Your new bandmate seems really nice.”

“Marco?”

“Ye,s Marco. I was chatting to him before, he’s lovely.” Oh Mam, if only you knew. “And so handsome too!”

I can’t help but laugh at that. At least it’s not just me. “Sorry but he’s got a boyfriend and I think he might be a bit young for you.”

“I didn’t mean for me!”

“Maaam!!” She laughs at how mortified I look. I’m suddenly very glad she’s going (not really though).

“Oh, I’m only joking sweetheart! Anyway I better go, don’t want to keep the taxi waiting.”

“Okay. Love you.” I pull her in for another hug. “Thanks again, for tonight.”

“You deserve it sweetie. Love you too.” She draws back and tugs her jacket further over her shoulders. “Come over for your tea soon yeah? I’ll make farmhouse omelettes!”

We say our final goodbyes and I watch her go. I lean back against the bar and sip my drink, letting my eyes scan around the room. Eventually they fall on Connie and Sasha. They’ve drifted away from the rest of the group and are chatting side by side near the jukebox. Connie looks relaxed and very much himself, talking away, barely stopping for breath. Sasha doesn’t seem to mind though. I can’t quite see her face but I can tell she’s smiling and laughing, a lot.

God I hope it works out for them this time. The thought of those two finally getting it together makes me smile to myself, but then, a lump of lead settles at the bottom of my stomach. I glance around the room and take in the different couples – Marco and Floch, chatting closely, comfortable in each other’s presence; Ymir and Historia, all coy smiles and delicate touches, full of the excitement that comes at the start of a relationship; Connie and Sasha, standing right on the precipice of something new, building up the courage to take that leap.

And then there’s me. Alone. When did that suddenly become an issue? I’ve never had a problem with my own company. In fact, I’ve always craved it whenever I’ve dated someone. I’m too fickle, things quickly fizzle out, I’ve always breathed a sigh of relief when it’s ended. So why, stood in a room full of my closest friends, do I feel so lonely?

And then I’m scowling, frowning at myself and feeling like shit, because how can I be so goddamn selfish? After everything my friends have done for me tonight, I’m stood here feeling sorry for myself because they have something I don’t. How fucking dare I. I should be glad, feeling nothing but happiness for them. God what a shitty friend I am.

_Don’t you dare let on that you’re feeling sorry for yourself. Get a grip._

My eyes find Floch and Marco again. Marco seems a little tipsy – his flushed cheeks and slightly glassy eyes giving him away – but I don’t think I can blame alcohol for the way he’s looking at his boyfriend right now. I have no idea what Floch is saying but Marco's hanging on every word. He’s gazing intently, his soft eyes barely blinking, like even a micro-second without seeing Floch would be too long. It’s the smile that gets me though. It’s so serene and content. Like the one I saw at the planetarium but also, nothing like it at all, because this one is so full of love and affection it knocks the wind out of me.

I want that. For someone to look at me like nothing else exists, to listen to me and love the sound of my voice as much as their favourite song, to reach out and hold me like I’m something precious and cherish me. And the fact that I’m wishing this while I stare at Marco scares the shit out of me, because he’s clearly already found somebody he can do all that for.

_Shit. You got it bad Kirschtein._

I decide to slip out for a moment, in the hopes that some fresh air will help me think straight, but it doesn’t help.

I need a distraction. I need to feel something other than the dull twist in my gut. I need an escape. I need to feel…wanted.

I don't even register that my hand has slid into my back pocket until I feel my phone.

_Don’t text her. Do not fucking text her._

I text her.

_…Shit. What am I doing?_

Straight away, I realise my mistake and decide there and then to switch my phone off and deal with any replies in the morning.

And I swear I would have if she hadn't text me back within seconds.

**Hitch:**

**_Hey_ **

**_You wanna come over?_ **

___________________________________

I order an Uber to pick me up further down the street. I send Connie a text saying I've got a bad head and I’m heading home. He'll definitely see through my bullshit, but that's for tomorrow Jean to worry about. Right now, I just need to feel the warmth of someone else's hands on me.

The ride only takes ten minutes and then I'm walking up the three stone steps to that green door I know oh so fucking well. I rap my usual knock on the wooden frame and wait.

"Hey," she says flatly, opening the door.

"Hey," I return, stepping inside.

Her lips are on me before the door clicks shut behind us.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my sweet baby Jean (ㄒoㄒ)
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the dream at the start (◕‿-) I may or may not have had Is This Desire by PJ Harvey going through my head when I wrote it (Lord have mercy on my dirty little soul!)
> 
> I'm going to start working on the next chapter straight away but it may be a while before it's finished as I'm going to Japan for four weeks at the end of July (Waaaaah!!!!) and starting a new full-time job in September. I bloody love writing this fic though so rest assured it will continue.
> 
> As always any feedback welcome :D


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